The 73rd Hunger Games
by Jeremy55
Summary: The moment Gale walked into the town square for the 73rd Reaping, he knew something was wrong. And after Effie pulled the tribute's names from the glass balls, he realized his life was about to take a turn for the worse, and he would forever be haunted by the scars of the traumatizing events in the near future.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 12's population of about eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state.

I end up around the boys my age, we exchange saddened looks and focus our attention back on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. My eyes are locked onto the glass ball with the boy's names in it. Forty or so are mine, and I can't help but grow tense in fear. Twenty of the ones in the girl's ball are Katniss' and I quickly realize our chances of actually being chosen the same year, having to watch each other die in the same arena.

Two of the three chairs fill with Madge's father, Mayor Undersee, who's tall, balding man, and Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat.

Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. I felt my hate for the Capitol grow in my chest again, and as always, I wish I was in the woods, Katniss there to listen to me yell and blow off some steam. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.

Everything in the Capitol was off, strange, but these _games _were made to scare us. They were to keep us under control. Show us how we're totally under their mercy. And sadly it's true. If we even showed the slightest hint of rebellion, we'd all end up like District 13.

Every year we're forced to treat this like a festival, something meant to be celebrated, but every year there's nothing but wrinkled faces and two crying families. The mayor reads District 12's two victors, and Haymitch Abernathy comes staggering onto the stage, beyond drunk, yelling unintelligible sentences. _We should all come to the Reaping like this, _I thought. The crowd responds with an applause, but he gets confused and gives Effie a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughing stock of Panem, and he knows it. I find Katniss in the group of sixteen year olds, she's trying to stifle a smile, but I can see right through her pursed lips. Inside she's laughing, but then it fades away, because she remembers where she is.

The mayor introduces Effie Trinket, taking the cameras off of Haymitch.

Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever _in your favor." I roll my eyes. Her pink hair is mesmerizing, and I can't tell if it's a wig or if it's her natural hair, dyed the ugly color it is now.

I stare back at Katniss, Effie's voice ringing in the background. She looks back at me, and I put on a weak smile, but she knows what I'm thinking. _It could be you. _I want to whisper. _It could be you and then I'll have to watch. _Her face wrinkles, and I can see her concern, but my expression fades as Effie starts to step forward toward the glass balls.

"Ladies first!" she calls happily, trotting over to the ball, dipping her hand deep in the countless papers. _Not Katniss_. _Anyone but Katniss. Please._

Effie steps back toward the microphone and opens the slip, reading it a few times before reciting the name in the microphone.

"_Sara Winters!" _She calls out. The name rings in the air, and after a minute a small thirteen year old girl, with red hair and bones skinnier than my fingers walks up to the stadium. She takes her place and Effie congratulates her over and over. "And now, for the boys!" she calls out again, stepping over to the glass ball and dipping her hand in again, pulling out yet another card.

I think of the same scenario every year. One of my brothers' names coming out of that ball, them being transported to the Capitol, and spending weeks watching them starve and eventually die. They can't hunt like Katniss and I can, and they definitely don't know how to take care of themselves, that's my job. _If I could, I'd send an arrow straight through Effie's throat, and take a bullet in the head after. _

The card is selected, and a heavy silence falls over everyone. I put my head down, wondering what face is going to disappear from District 12 forever. I can hear her mouth against the microphone, and he small breath before she speaks the name.

_Gale Hawthorne. _


	2. Chapter 2

**(Author's Note!: **_Thank you so much for reading... I'm planning to make this a long story if it gets a lot of attention... reviews and favorites are always appreciated! If you have questions or simply want to talk to me you can message me through FanFiction or e-mail me) (JeremyAdkins55(Gmail))_

Chapter 2

_No._

_Me?_

_No. _

I can't even breathe. The pressure in my chest is so great, it feels like my ribs caved in and poked wide holes in my ribs. Everyone's eyes are on me, but I only look up at Katniss, and let my expression soften. Her hand covers her quivering mouth, and horror is plastered on every inch of her face. I had never seen Katniss cry, and now was not a good time. I was suddenly reminded of my first kill with Katniss' bow and arrows. It was only a rabbit, but it was small and fragile like her sister, Prim. It's black eyes were open and curious like a child's and as it inched it's nose up to a nearby bush to sniff the berries, I sent the projectile into it's small chest. It flailed around for a couple seconds before I went to retrieve it. Even as I tried to rip my arrow out it attempted to run away, feet scrambling around on the ground and shuffling the leaves around. I grabbed the arrow by the shaft and lifted the rabbit up, not sure of what to do with it. The damn thing still tried to run as fast as it can, but it didn't go anywhere, and it took me a couple minutes before I finally pushed my knife into it's head.

Right now, in the middle of the square, I was the rabbit, impaled by the Capitol's crudely sharp arrow, wanting to run and flee but pinned in place.

A single tear fled from her gray eye as I wrinkled my face in disbelief, and walked toward the Justice Building. I never should have taken the tesserae, I should have just let myself starve. I couldn't even walk in a straight line, but I make my way up to the stairs, my face grim and stone cold. I remind myself that I'm on camera and put on a fierce look. Hopefully if any of the other tributes are watching, they see me as a predator right now and not some helpless prey, like the little girl standing next to me on stage. Her head was only up to my chest, and I literally had to look down as if I was looking at the ground to purse my lips toward her. Soon enough this girl and I will be in the arena with 22 other people, and we'll be dead, and the games will continue without us.

Effie introduces us again as tributes for the games, but I'm staring directly at Katniss, face darkened, watching the tears stream down her face as I hold back my own, not even listening to the words being said by our escort.

The mayor finishes the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for the Sara and I to shake hands. Her fragile limb is weak and bony, I must seem like a monster to her. We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays. _Hopefully I won't have to put an end to this poor girl, or anyone else for that matter._

But I know, deep down I will have to end a life or two in order to survive. After all, there's 23 other people out to do the same.

The anthem ends, and Peacekeepers surround us and push us through the front door of the Justice Building. They guide us into different rooms and I'm pretty sure the door locked as I stepped in. I wondered if tributes had ever tried to run off into the district, hiding from the Peacekeepers. If they really wanted to, they could just stab themselves with some sharp thing inside this room. And I was curious again if anything like that had ever happened.

This room is probably the most ornate that I've ever seen in person. Velvet couches and deep colored curtains and a bunch of comfy looking chairs around a wooden table.

I let a tear run down my face as I realize that I will die in an arena back at home, leave my family alone and starving and leave Katniss behind to hunt the woods by herself. I wiped away the wetness from my face and sniffle a couple of times. They could come in any minute, and I was not going to let them catch me crying.

After a half hour, my mother and my three brothers come into the room. I'm instantly engulfed by the four other bodies, their heat radiating off of them. I repetitively tell them that I'm fine, and that I'll try to win, but all they do is weep into my shirt.

"Listen you two," I pulled Rory and Vick off of me and knelt down to them, "you have to stay strong. Ask Katniss to take you out to the woods, show you how to hunt. Rory you're in charge of feeding the family from now on."

"But you'll make it home!" Vick protested, and I shook my head.

"But if I don't…" I trailed off. This isn't what they needed. I patted both their heads and moved over to the toddler in my mother's arms and planted a kiss on top of his small head. My mother stood, tears running down her face as she looked at me.

Her face is weathered, wrinkled and wet from the tears. I bring her into a hug, Posy still in her arms. "I'll be okay," I say, "but make sure they are too. Katniss will bring you game while I'm gone." I could feel her weep into my shirt, and I let a small tear flood over my eye. I wiped it away, remembering the cameras that would follow this short amount of time I have left with my family.

I gave her a list of things to do, people she could trade with down at the Hob, and told her to stay strong. I lectured my brothers for school as well, reminded them to help out mom with the house.

The Peacekeeper came in too soon, and I was allowed one final hug from each of my family members and an 'i love you' before he snatched them away from me. I stood where they left me, depression instantly falling over me. I moved quickly over to the table and pounded my fist as hard as I could three times on the hard surface. The wood banged through the tiny room, and I forced myself to stay calm.

The door opened again, and I whirled around, only to find Katniss jumping into me, arms flailing around my neck, crying into my shoulder as I squeezed her. There was never any sort of relationship between Katniss and I, and I'm glad for it now. When I pulled away she wiped away the tears and began apologizing over and over again.

"I'm so sorry. I should have nev-"

"No," she interrupted, "you entered your name more times to save your family, and now it's time to save yourself."

For the first time in the past hour, I imagined myself winning the games, coming home, finally being rich and being able to support my family completely. Maybe the odds were somewhat in my favor. "Katniss I'm not going to win." I say, but she shakes her head.

"You can shoot, and hunt, and you're a whiz with snares," she ran her fingers through her loose strands of hair, "You can win. You could come home." I shook my head in denial. I could shoot, not as accurate as Katniss, but I was practically silent when I walked around, and snares could help. Maybe I could pick off a couple of people with arrows and trap others in a spring snare. Maybe I would come home.

I wished for the hundredth time that Katniss would have ran off with me in the woods, never to return to district 12 ever again. Then I noticed how close we were, and how her pink lips parted. I grabbed her cheeks between my hands and pressed my lips against hers. She didn't pull away like I expected her to, she responded, kissing me back and curling her fingers against my broad chest. I was the one to pull away.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, her face still less than an inch from mine.

"Don't." she warned, giving me one more slow, long kiss before wrapping her arms around my torso, diving into my chest. I squeezed her tight, perhaps for the final time. Then the Peacekeeper walked into the room forced her out. She begged for a couple more minutes, our hands gripping each other's tightly, not wanting to let go.

"Katniss! Don't let them starve!" I yelled, and then our hands separated, and the door slammed in my face.

Never before had I ever even seen the interior of a car before. The leather seats were luxurious, but honestly, I preferred to be on my feet. We pass reporters and cameras until we board the train, and take one look at my home before the door shuts and Effie pushes me further into the train. Sara looked horribly depressed and the redness of her face proved that she had spent a considerable amount of time balling her eyes out. But I couldn't blame her.

The train moved the minute the doors shut behind us. Effie attempts to show me to my room, but I walk right past her and look out into the green woods through the large window. Green was Katniss' favorite color, and every tree reminded me of our long journeys through the forest. I saw a mockingjay fly next to our train for a few seconds before retreating back to the trees.

Those birds were pure joy and sadness all at the same time. Katniss remembers them because of her father. She remembers him singing into the tree tops and hearing the same tune repeated back over and over again, and with those memories she's haunted. The first time she showed me them, I turned away from the idea of singing to birds, and now I wished I had spent more time with her and the birds.

I watch the woods, engulfed by the brown and green trees, ignoring Effie and Sara, letting them continue the tour without me. Eventually, I leave the window stumble into a room full of foods and drinks that could feed my family for months. I couldn't even name most of the dishes on the long table, let alone the drinks of various colors and smells. I sat down, grabbed a plate and began filling the silverware with small portions of everything, filling my cup with some hot drink that Effie called a _cappuccino_ and another with ice water.

I didn't stuff myself too fast, but I did manage to finish off my entire plate while Effie and Sara talked about the Capitol. Their conversation angered me. How "_fabulous_" everything was for them. The countless parties and celebrations, the excitement for a game where children killed each other. _Sick. _

"So Gale, are you excited?" Effie questioned, taking a sip out of her mug and crossing her legs in her short skirt.

"Am I excited?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes at her, "excited to kill people? No." I answered, pushing my chair out from the table and letting it tip over, striding angrily to the back of the train. I heard Effie call for me, telling me to pick up my chair, but I ignored her, angrily stomping into an entirely different room and throwing myself on the circular shaped seat in front of the back window.

I watched the train tracks disappear behind the train, glancing off into the woods as well. I couldn't rant anymore. Katniss wasn't here to listen, and if the Capitol ever found out my opinion they would probably kill me minutes into the games. I had to win, not for my family but for Katniss. She had kissed me, or at least kissed me back. And I couldn't help but wonder if we would ever start something if I made it back home from the games. But in order to do that, I would have to avoid death, and that's going to be impossible.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note PLEASE READ!** _Thank's for reading, the past couple of chapters have been fun to write, but this is slow, so if I don't update daily it's because I'm under a serious case of writer's block. Anyway, if you have questions or suggestions for the story please PM or e-mail me! I appreciate feedback! Tips/reviews/comments always make stories easier! Also, be sure to like/follow so you get notified when I post new chapters! THANKS!_

Chapter 3

Haymitch sat in front of my chair, Sara next to me and Effie next to Haymitch. He was hungover, and pouring a decent amount of alcohol into a cup of hot chocolate. Effie had just finished lecturing me about my _attitude, _and how I should try to preserve this train, because everything was expensive and luxurious. I wanted to tell her that I could care less, and flip the table over in front of her, but I held my temper and imagined her shocked face and shriek if I started to trash anything else. Tipping over chairs and leaving them on the ground is definitely not on Effie's list of manners. Honestly, I think she needed to get her fancy outfits and makeup torn off for a couple of months and thrown into District 12, starving with the rest of us. Back home, clothes, looks and perfect manners meant nothing because everybody was dying anyway.

"Why are you smiling?" Haymitch asked crudely, anger in his voice.

I shrugged, "I was just imagining what Effie would do if I decided to trash this... _expensive furniture." _I mocked her Capitol accent, hissing my the _s _and sounding extra excited.

"Young man!" Effie scolded, I ignored her and watched Haymitch's growing smirk. I had to say, my impression of her was dead on. Sara giggled next to me, her laugh sounded like Prim's. "How dare you three!" She yelled at all of us now, and our stifled smiles became laughs at her. "_This," _she waved her arms around her, signaling the train and everything in it, "is a pleasure!" We stopped our laughs, and I gave Sara a small wink and a smirk before I speared scrambled eggs onto my fork and shoved eggs into my mouth.

We all kept our heads down, like a dog who had gotten caught tearing up old newspapers, too ashamed to even glance at Effie. Her arms fell into her lap as she let out a frustrated sigh. I wondered if the tributes before us ever gave her this much trouble, and I reminded myself to ask Haymitch about it later.

"So," Haymitch spoke, swallowing his drink, "sponsors." he said. I dreaded this. I didn't want to smile, try to make friends or have to dress up for the pleasing of the Capitol. I wanted to train and get this over with, whether I died or not. "They're gonna dress you up, and during the parade you're going to smile," he stared directly at me, sternly, "and wave, and try to seem as appealing as possible."

I rolled my eyes and scratched my cheeks, pulling at the whiskers that grew on my hollow cheeks.

"You'll have more of a chance of surviving if you gets gifts from sponsors in the middle of the Games. A little food, a blanket, or hell- even a single match could save your ass in there."

"What about all the supplies at the cornucopia?" I blurted out. His lips pressed together tightly. There was always weapons, backpacks, food, water, matches and everything else imaginable. The careers usually go for the weapons first, picking off other tributes and worrying about food later.

"Every year half the tributes die trying to get in there. Unless you're faster than the rest of them, you should just worry about not getting stabbed in the back." I didn't like his answer, because I needed a knife, rope, a bow and a sheath of arrows. I could run fast, but not through the trees or rough terrain. My feet always get caught on stumps and roots protruding from the soil when I try to run in the forest.

"But if I can get there earlier-"

"You'll get a spear in the head before you turn to run away!" He interrupted, slamming the butt of his fork against the table surface. "If you can survive without supplies, don't get yourself killed trying to get things you can live without." I nodded, realizing that he was right. The careers have spent their entire life training for this moment, and they can probably run a lot faster than I can. But if I got to a bow in time, I could pick off one person and be off before anyone else can come after me. Then again, there's no guarantee that there will be a bow in the stash.

Hopefully, I had some hidden talent with throwing knives, or spears or anything with range.

I spent the remainder of the day in the back of the train, watching the tracks zoom out from under me, disappearing with the land. The forest thinned out and eventually turned into flat plains, and then they slowly began to roll into small hills. I was thankful for our landscape in District 12, the trees made easy cover for hunting. I couldn't imagine trying to bag game in a place where the animals can see you coming from a mile away. The first week Katniss and I met, we exchanged awkward "hello"s and "hey"s, but as we started to talk to each other, she began sharing her father's knowledge with me. She showed me the food trees to climb, the medicinal and edible herbs that grew everywhere, and the different shapes and sizes of the animal tracks left by the game, I really got to understand the forest and find food where there seemed to be none. Eventually, she trusted me with one of her precious bows and a quiver full of sharp arrows. There was nothing that I could ever cherish more than the days we spend hunting.

One year, after the snow turned into slush, we ran into strange tracks in the mud while checking the snares. Katniss had immediately pointed them out to be turkey, and followed the trial. She showed me how they walked, how to tell if they had been running or walking, and how big they were all by the small tracks in the mud. After an hour of walking, we spotted three or four of the birds pecking at the ground.

_Always the head for turkeys, _the told me, _they'll fly away if you try to hit the heart. _We both slid out an arrow, and took aim at the clueless game. The cold never worked well with archery, since all you have is stiff muscles and frozen fingers to pull back the heavy draw of the weapon. To say the least, my aim wasn't perfect that day. My arrow flew into the thin neck of a medium sized turkey, and Katniss hit another bird right through the eye. The bird I shot at attempted to take flight, but it fell to the ground and flopped like a fish out of water for a couple seconds.

We took one turkey to the Hob and traded it, and the other back to our families. She had used the feathers to make us each a couple more arrows.

I took a shower and went to bed the minute the sun went down. The sheets had been freshly made, and my dirty clothes taken somewhere else. After kicking off my pants and shirt, I layed under the blankets, face smashed against the fluffed white pillow.

When the sun rose, it sent gray streaks of light through the thick, rounded windows, one of them piercing my closed eye and pulling me from my slumber. The train was silent and I wasn't sure if the food would be out yet, so I stayed looking up at the ceiling for a good hour, trying my hardest to avoid the bright lights. By that time, I hear Effie pour a cup of coffee and speak to one of the Peacekeepers on the train.

I jumped out of my bed, threw on a pair of silky, brown and blue pajama pants and left the matching shirt on the unmade bed. I realized I had made a mistake by not putting on a shirt when Effie let out a gasp as I walked into the room.

"What is the matter with you?" she asked, practically terrorized, "You're nearly naked!" I frowned at her.

"I have pants on." I said, turning away from her. _Weird that she can watch people kill each other but be completely shocked by seeing me shirtless. _I walked over to the impressive amount of breakfast food on the table. Pastries, eggs, bacon, sausage, grapes and other fruits, hot chocolate and coffee. I only had coffee one time, my father had given me a sip of the steaming liquid from his metal cup when I was younger. The taste was savory, but more bitter than the tree bark I ate when I was alone in the woods.

"Gale," She said calmly, I ignored her, got myself a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar to the large, steaming mug, "please dress yourself."

"No, thanks." I muttered, sipping the beverage, instantly woken by its warmth.

Effie shook her head, and her wig seemed to bounce and move with her. "You need manners." she whispered into her book. My fist clenched in response until the point of my knuckles turning white.

"At least I don't show up to the Reaping drunk." I spat, good thing Haymitch wasn't here, I'd probably pay for that one later. Then, I retreated to the back end of the train, sipping my coffee and inspecting the new landscape of the sharp hills that came to a peak. There wasn't anymore tall grass, but short shrubs and weeds that covered the ground. We were definitely getting close to the Capitol. We learned about the landscape and terrain of the place once called the "Rockies", and how the Capitol was surrounded by its sharp, snow covered mountains.

Two hours pass, and behind me my ears pick up the almost silent sound of the door opening and shutting, and small footsteps growing towards me. I'm surprised to see Haymitch, not as drunk or hungover as the past couple of days, take a seat on the other end of the round couch.

"Morning." He moans, sounding almost dreadful to see me.

"Hey." I said, pursing my lips into a weak smile.

"So," he mutters, "I hear you're pretty in the woods?" he takes out a flask from his leather jacket and sips from it, sighing as he takes the bottle from his lips.

"Yeah I guess." I mutter under my breath.

"And you can shoot." he claimed. I nodded. "How is your aim?" he asked. How did he know this? Katniss and I trade with people, but Haymitch never comes out of his house unless the Hunger Games start, or he runs out of liquor. There's no was he could know about Katniss and I. I imagine him running to the Capitol and ratting us out, but I dismiss the idea after I realize that he has no reason to see us whipped, or shot for that matter.

"I'm okay. I mean not as good as Katniss." He looks puzzled, and I consider telling him about how I spend my days outside the district fences. I decide that he can probably be trusted, so I tell him about how Katniss and I hunt in the woods, and she taught me how to shoot her bow and arrows, and how I trap rabbits with cleverly placed snares.

"Well your fellow tribute says you barely miss."

"What?" I've never even seen Sara before, let alone ever traded game with her directly. I try to think back to all the families that I've traded with, and not a single memory contained her in it. "How does she know all of this?" Most of the district knows that Katniss and I hunt, but none of them have ever really admired us on our shots.

"She says her father trades at the Hob?" He asked, nothing rang a bell. "Doesn't matter. What does matter is that you get your hands on a bow." he was pointing the lid of his flash at me now.

"But you sai-"

"I know!" He nearly shouted, closing his eyes in frustration, "but if you spend that much time hunting I think you could get away with at least a bow. Can you make arrows?"

_Yes, but I don't have a lot of experience with them. _"Katniss usually makes them," I state, shrugging, "but I think I could if I tried."

"Good. So, when the games start, try to get a bow. If you can't get the arrows easily just make your own." He took a long gulp of his flask, and I could hear the liquid gulp in his throat. Didn't his throat burn from all the drinking?

"What if they don't have one there?" I protested, seeking more advice.

Haymitch paused, pushed his hair out of his face and took another sip from the flask before speaking again, "You're gonna have to show the gamemakers how good you are with one first. Then they'll put one in to… _keep the games interesting._" I knew from previous games that I would have to spend a whole day of training getting used to the bows they used in the arena. None of the few bows I've ever seen are wood, they're always some strange metal with the limbs varying shape and size.

"I''ll try." I say, looking back out the window.

"Don't forget about the hand to hand combat," he said, "that will save your life too." I nodded and he got out of his seat, walking away. "Oh by the way!" he called back, I turned to face him, "I think your manners are absolutely _fabulous." _He copied Effie's accent like I had and smirked as he walked away, the door closed behind him and I realized for the first time in my life that District 12's one existing victor was more than a crazy drunk.

I continued to watch the tracks disappear, my mind not thinking of home, but how I', going to survive the next horrific weeks of my life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** A HUUUGE shoutout to huda.812.78 for writing that awesome review! I'm glad you're liking the story so far... I made this chapter pretty long, but I hope you guys like it. Keep me posted on improvements i can make to the story, I don't take reviews with suggestions as a bad thing! Make sure you like/follow the story so you will get notifications on my updated chapters! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 4

I spent the next day speaking to Haymitch about plans for the games. He said my best strategy to gain sponsors was to act like a career, since I had enough muscle and I was the size of them anyway. Now all I had to do was act like I knew exactly what I was doing, and they would try to avoid me. He told me that if I wanted to score good, I should save my best skills for last. My snares.

I've already thought out traps and spring snares that can be adjusted to react to a human footstep, and dangle someone five feet off the ground. I wasn't sure of the terrain I would be in, so I asked about strategies for finding water in dry areas and how to stay dry in wet ones. I found out that plastic bags collect water if they're put over a plant, and that if I did it right, I could rig a snare to fire an arrow from a makeshift bow, as for keeping dry... Ham itch said to "suck it up."

I don't see much of Sara, and when I do she's depressed and not eating much, avoiding any tips from that it matters anyway. I feel bad knowing that 23 of us are going to die, and my chances of survival are greater than her's are. She's bony, small and hasn't had any experience in the wild like I have. When I asked her about her skills, she said hiding was going to be her main strategy. I couldn't help but pity her.

However, Effie is constantly on my back about how I should actually wear a shirt when there people around, and how I should put a napkin on my lap before I eat, and not rest my forearm on the side of the I die here, it would be because Effie talked my ear off.

"Sorry," I said, "we don't have time to learn table manners because we're not at the table much." I give Effie a scowl and keep my eyes locked on her as I use my fingers to eat a sliver of chicken. She purses her lips, wipes her mouth with her napkin and excuses herself from the table, flailing her arms at her sides as she walked away. I looked at Haymitch, who was giving me a look of pure anger.

"What?" I mutter at him, "It's not like manners are going to save my life in there. She doesn't get it." My eyes fall from him and I finish my lunch in silence.

Back in my room, I start doing any exercising I can do without the training center. Even though I'm in excellent shape, I need to gain as much muscle as I can before the games actually start. I do sit-ups and push ups and crunches until my muscles cry out for me to stop. I take a shower and wash the smell of sweat off of myself, dressing when I'm done, even sliding into a shirt for Effie.

As much as I hate the Capitol, the sight of it from the dam made me stop and stare. The brilliant water flowed from the sparkling lake down the waterfall and into the raging river. Beyond the city filled with strangely shaped buildings, there was the mountains, sure enough covered in snow, a natural barrier between the districts and the Capitol. Even from the miles and miles separating me from the mountains, I could tell there was a thick, evergreen forest growing on the rocky surface. The lake glistened and sparkled as we rode over the water, the water was clear and and flat like glass.

We were lead into a tunnel, where the train slowed to a stop, and countless people greeted us at the station. I've never seen so many different colors of hair. Gold, silver, green, blue, pink, orange, and even some neon color that made my head hurt. Effie's makeup was nothing compared to the women, and men, in the Capitol. In fact, Effie's makeup looked far less like a five year old's finger painting smeared onto a human canvas. I saw a slim man with a bony face, green hair and brown tattoos running down his body, he literally looked identical to the oak saplings in the forest of District 12.

Sara and I stared out the window, looking into the cameras of the Capitol citizens in complete bewilderment.

I stand alone in the small room, naked, excluding the boxers I stole from the cupboard after my prep team left. Whoever my stylist is, they have no right to see me completely clothe less. My hair was perfectly parted, and I can't help but run my coarse fingers through the side of my head, even my skin has a warmer glow to it. They decided to leave my facial hair for some odd reason, I expected them to even rid me of the hair that grew on my legs and arms. They did, however, feel the need to touch up my eyebrows. Apparently, even the slightest hair between your eyebrows is frowned upon in the Capitol, and I spent ten minutes getting my eyebrows plucked by a woman with maroon hair and pure black makeup.

Fifteen minutes passed by before my stylist walked in. The man was paper white, with his hair a mix of gray and black, but his skin wasn't wrinkled the slightest, so he couldn't be as old as his hair made him look. _Great, _I thought, _I get the old man to have a look at me. _He walked around me multiple times, his painted nails tapping against lips as he inspected me. I stood still, giving my signature darkened expression whenever he was in my view. He stopped for a minute, looked at my face for literally a minute before speaking to me.

"You," he spoke drawn out, like he was trying to say each word as long as he could, "I can work with."

_That's good I guess. _

"Strong." He commented, walking to my side and viewing me from profile, "not many from your district are as… toned." _Yup, creepy old guy. "_Fortunately for you, we won't have to use as much makeup on you. You're decent looking."

Decent? At least my features matched my age!

"So what are we doing for the parade?" I ask, not wanting to hear anymore of his comments. He hadn't even told me his name, so I didn't bother to tell him mine. He brought me a robe, and I threw it on quickly. Not having a shirt was one thing, but being in underwear and being forced to have people look at you is completely different.

"Well you're District 12!" he said happily, "Why don't we do coal?"

Every year. Coal. Coal. And some more coal. Our District is bad enough, and nobody pays attention to us because our costumes are horrible. But he was serious, so I just shrugged and he got started by pulling out my costume.

A few hours later, Sara and I are dressed in matching outfits, completely black sleeveless shirts and tight leather pants that hugged every inch of your lower body, our faces and clothing were covered in some weird artificial glowing coal dust. It's cool, I guess, but only up close. The audience will never be able to see the glow from the seats. I have a pickax attached to my belt and a miner's hat on my head, Sara has the same. Every year its the same thing, only we're dressed a little more than the previous tributes from 12. I remember one girl was almost completely naked with coal dust covering her up.

Our stylists looked us over one last time before giving us a thumbs up and walking away, leaving us in our chariot. They didn't even seem to care at all. The horses were coated with the same glowing powder as us, so maybe the audience would notice.

"What do you think of this?" Sara stood on her tiptoes to talk to me. She had makeup smeared on her face, black and a little bit of white were around her eyes.

"I think we look absolutely stupid." I had to almost yell for her to hear me, the roar of the crowd was so loud that it blocked my own thoughts out.

"I agree!" she yelled back up to me. Before I knew it the anthem was playing and people were moving out onto the runway. _Now's my biggest chance to make an influence and I'm in some stupid costume. _

We enter the city, and everyone's head is turned toward the districts in front of us. I feel completely ignored, completely pushed away, and I wonder if Katniss is even looking at me right now. This is probably the best she'd ever see me from here on out. We get a weak applause, about ten roses thrown at us and my smile and waving isn't doing enough. A hundred yards in front of us, districts one and two are getting so many cheers it pulls me out of focus and wonder how they were dressed. I couldn't see them from where I was, but I guess the people though it was good.

Halfway down the street and we're the weakest ones out here. Even when we're supposed to be dazzling, District 12 comes up shorter than everyone else. Suddenly I notice the coals start to heat up, and the embers glow even brighter than before. It's not trails of fire following us or anything, but it raises some interest in the crowd and I can actually see people turning their heads at us.

I suddenly have an idea and take the pickax from my belt, and thrust it into the air as if I were stabbing at a bird. The crowd roars a little louder, excited by my enthusiasm. Once Sara does the same, we get more attention for a short amount of time. We circle back around and disappear into the training center just as I'm enjoying myself. The coals turned dark and faded into the print coal dust once again.

The minute the huge doors close behind our chariot, our prep teams come over to us, help us down and congratulate us and compliment us. I can't help but see all of these as lies, nothing more than words used to boost our confidence. We weren't that great.

Haymitch and Effie guide us up the tower, all the way up to the 12th floor, where I'm greeted with a penthouse ten times as fancy as the train.

The entire place is gorgeous. One entire wall was nothing but glass and a couple of support beams between the . A mahogany table with matching leather chairs, a couch that stretches around most the living room, a kitchen, clean and neat, and even the hardwood floors and carpet dazzled me as I entered.

"This is where you'll be staying." Effie says excitedly. For a moment I forget that the only reason I'm here is because I'll be fighting for my life and enjoy my temporary and possibly final home. The walls were cream like soft skin, and the whole place was warm and welcoming.

I walked to my room, ignoring Effie as she complained about the arrangement of the room being different from last year. A king sized, green and brown bed was placed in the middle of the room, pushed against the wall. The walls were cream like the rest of them, but the carpet was long and warm unlike the hardwood floor outside my door. The bathroom was probably the same size as our kitchen and living room back at home, the shiny white tile was freshly polished, and the mirrors cleaner than I've ever seen before . I could probably fit five people in the shower before anybody got too cramped. The buttons on the wall dispensed different things, water, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, face wash, and lotion all had their own "instant access" buttons on the shower's wall. I wish my family could experience this, just once. My wardrobe is filled with normal clothes. Brown and blue jeans and shirts that vary colors. I even see a suit hanging in the walk in closet! The vest and slick silk pants were black with a red trimming near the collar and sleeve ends, a matching red tie was already knotted and tied around the hanger that held the formal attire. I made a mental note to wear that before I'm sent to my death.

The shower I take is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I never knew hot water could be accessed so easily, and the conditioner in my rough hair instantly smoothed it. The coal dust was a little hard to work out, but eventually, my skin was light and clean again.

After getting dressed and grabbing a quick bite to eat I head to bed, images of the Capitol and its people, and the lights and our penthouse racing through my head. I suddenly thought of Katniss, and wonder what she's thinking of me right now. I imagined her rolling her eyes as I rode out of the training center, coal dust all over my body and embers glowing on my skin.

One year of the games, when two kids our age went into the games, she joked and laughed about how bland and boring their costumes were. All the other districts were doing pretty good that year, but our district stylists decided to go with the same idea they did every year.

'I think I'd rather be naked.' she whispered as we stood in the town square, watching the parade on the big screen.

I smirked and forced myself not to laugh, 'I don't know about that one, Catnip.' I said, horrified by the idea of me being naked in front of thousands, my stylist was enough.

I roll over, crossing my arms, letting out a sigh as I try to get the girl out of my head. She's been nothing more than a hunting partner since the day we met, and since the kiss, I find myself more torn up over her than I ever have been before, and I fall asleep with the feeling of her lips pressed against mine.

She was directly in front of me, inches from my reach. Her perplexing braid started over one ear and dropped over the opposite shoulder, she wasn't wearing any visible makeup, but her olive skin was clear and clean and her teeth perfectly white as she smiled warmly.

"Katniss?" I whispered, narrowing my eyebrows and reaching out to touch her face. Her soft cheek fit perfectly in my calloused palm, and her head tilted to the side to lean into my touch. "I'm-"

"Shh." she put her finger up to my lips and pushed me back with one hand on my chest. I stepped back, my shoulders hit the bark of the tree roughly, and my boots met the trunk with a _thud_. She was centimeters from my face now, her swooped nose barely touching mine, her fingers moved over my chest, up my neck and over my shoulders. My heart raced, she was growing closer, a hint of lust in her eye. The gray in her eyes were locked on me as she leaned against me. I used the tree as support and closed my eyes deeply as her lips made contact with me again, once on the lips, and repetitively on the cheek and felt so wrong, but it's what I've wanted for years, so I let myself enjoy it.

"Katniss." I whispered tensely. It couldn't be real, the trees were too green, they almost seemed artificial.

"Don't ruin it, Gale." she warned, kissing my lips again. The warmth from her body radiated so much that I felt like I was on the sun. The birds flew around us, singing great songs in high pitched tones. I kept my hands on her waist as she pulled away slowly, her eyes held my gaze as she slowly separated from me, turning one shoulder.

There was a snapping of a branch to my left, and we both whipped around to the source. The man appeared out of nowhere, clutching something in his hand, sprinting full speed at the both of us. I didn't have time to react before he threw the deadly sharp knife clutched in his hand, and I watched the blade enter Katniss' body where her heart would be. She stood for a moment, looking at the blade, her brown leather jacket soaking crimson from her wound. Her gaze found me again, this time with pain and confusion and with one arm she reached out and whispered something before her body fell limp onto the ground.

"No!" I screamed, but as my feet bolted toward my best friend I felt the blade of the second knife enter the side of my throat, just above the shoulder. Choking and gurgling noises came from the back of throat as put my fingers to the gaping hole. I fell next to her, clutching the cold metal stained with my own blood. Her eyes were cold and lifeless, even more gray than before, the lips I had just kissed hung open wide, no breath escaping her open mouth. The soft dirt of the woods collected my blood, and I had just enough life in me to feel the man rip the knife from my neck as the world faded into darkness.

Something hit my back hard, the wind blew out of my lungs like men in a mine explosion. I managed to get up, but my feet were tangled in something and I fell again. The moonlight spread on one spot on the floor, but it was still too dark to see where I was. My arm bumped into something, and it tipped over, a loud _crash _and clattering followed. Air managed to enter my lungs, and I suddenly remembered where I was. The Capitol.

My bed sheets were tangled around my legs, I was on the ground but the ends were still tucked in the corners of the bed. I hit my nightstand, and the lamp on top of it shattered on the ground, glass and small shards of wire lay next to my knees. My chest was heaving, covered dangerously in sweat, my hair stuck to my forehead as I tried to wipe the wetness from my eyebrow.

It took me minutes to realize that I was whispering her name over and over again, and to notice the tears streaming down my cheeks, dripping from my chin.

_Just a dream_, I told myself. But I had just watched someone I've never seen before kill her. I watched Katniss Everdeen take a throwing knife to the heart.

"She's alive. She has to be. Calm down, she's okay." The more I tried to calm myself down, the more I thought she was dead. Maybe she was. "Katniss." I whimpered, another river flowing from my eyes as I said her name.

I scooted away from the mess, managing to get my feet free from the sheets before my back made contact with the wall. I drew my knees to my chest and let my head fall into them, my arms covering my head like they did for the tornado drills at school. _She's alive. She's probably sleeping soundly by now, _I told myself. I wondered if she dreamed about me dying, then again she'd probably see it on the Games. Her death replayed over and over in my mind, I watched the knife spiral in slow motion and enter her chest, and then she fell over. Over and over again I watched the pain in her face, the anger and hate in the man's eyes, the ferocious velocity of the blade. My eyes finally closed, and I hummed a soft melody Katniss had whistled to the mockingjays with me to calm myself.

I finished the song, and the silence made my ears ring. I missed District 12, the trees, the hard, packed dirt in the Seam, the sloppy soup Greasy Sae served and my family. My mother and I had never been very close since my father's death in the mine, and now I was regretting not ever cherishing the relationship we could have had.

If I died in that arena, my family would probably end up dying from starvation. Katniss would try to keep them fed, bringing in game and berries, but eventually she'd not have enough to keep them alive. I imagined Katniss in the woods by herself, the trees as silent as ever as she hunted the game, never to smile again because she'd have nobody to talk to. I couldn't bear the thought.

Suddenly I realized what my motive for this hell was, what I'm going to win for.

Katniss.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:**_I am REALLY appreciating the comments/review and likes this story is getting. A big shout out to those users who have complimented my work. I'm enjoying writing this story so far, but I can't wait to get it moving fast. I think this chapter is a little slow, but its just as important. Thanks for taking the time to read! Make sure to like/follow/comment! THANKS!_

Chapter 5

I sat straight up as I felt the small tap on my shoulder, hitting the back of my head against the wall with a loud _thud. _A man stood in front of me, his face was hollow and his eyes were bright blue like the morning sky. Around his mouth was deep scars that were barely visible in the morning's light, but I could see them. My head hurt for some reason, and there was a little pinch in my thigh as I tried to stretch, but the man didn't say anything, he just pointed to the tipped over nightstand, broken lamp and sheets that littered all over the carpet.

"Oh!" I said a little embarrassed, "Ugh, I'll get it, just let me throw on some-" his head shook quickly, and pointed to his chest with his first finger. "I'll get it." I stated, but he repeated the gesture.

His eyes stared at me intensely, but he still didn't speak any words. Was he mute? There was a girl in District 12 who couldn't talk, I guess it was a physical disability or something. She was nice, always smiling and doing people favors, extremely smart too, her grades were higher than mine would ever be.

"Can you talk?" I asked, feeling a little rude as he shook his head again, this time slowly as his face saddened. "I'm sorry." I said honestly. He kept a straight face and pointed to me, then drew a line across his thin lips with his thumb and finger. _Don't talk? _My eyebrows knit together in confusion. He let out a sigh, and made a talking motion with his hand, then shook his head once again.

I understood. He couldn't talk because he was a slave to the Capitol. I couldn't think of the word our teacher mentioned a couple of years ago, but the Capitol had taken rebels from the rebellion and cut out their tongues, forcing them to work without pay while the citizens bent them to their every wish. But that was decades ago, he had done something else to end up here. Murder? Theft? It was anyone's guess, but the Capitol obviously didn't take it well.

Nodding in understanding, he gave a small, short smile before bending down to put the nightstand back on the four legs. I couldn't sit and watch him do this without feeling guilty, so I fetched a pair of pants from the closet and slid them on before kneeling down to scoop up the sheets and place them back onto the bed, also grabbing some glass and putting it into the palm of my hand. He tried to protest, but I ignored him, picking up a decent amount of the shards and dumping them in a trashcan. He gave me a 'thank you' nod as I went back to the closet to put on a button up shirt that hugged me around the chest and stomach.

As I'm reaching for the door handle, it opens and hits me in the toe. Effie lets out a short, ear splitting shriek as she ran into the door. The blow had scraped the knuckle of my big toe, but there wasn't any blood.

"Oh my," she said overdramatically, "Why I'm sorry, I _should _have knocked first." She covered her mouth, shock still on her face.

"It's alright," I waved her off, a small smile spreading on my lips, "I've taken worse."

"Well. Breakfast is ready." she said, her tone a little less ecstatic and overjoyed than usual. She was in a bright pink dress that puffed out in all directions, black pants underneath and pink boots that rode up to her knees. I wasn't sure if that counted as dressing provocatively in the Capitol, but I felt a little uncomfortable with her in it. She turned, waved me forward and lead me into the dining room.

I was glad to see Sara and Haymitch already at the table, but when my stylist came into the room with an older looking woman I wanted to retreat back to my room.

"I must say," He commented, smiling, "your costumes for the parade were-"

"_Fabulous?" _Haymitch interrupted, speaking long and slow like my stylist did. I stifled a laugh but gave him a slight nod and smirk.

"Yes! Amazing!" the other woman commented. She must be Sara's stylist. She looked like she was in her mid forties, artificially tan skin buffered to hide the wrinkles around her eyes. Her entire face looked like looked like she had heavy wind blasting on her face. The skin was pulled back and surgically altered, and her makeup came off of her eyes and lips as if it had stretched with the rest of her skin. I could easily see the tendons in her arms and fingers, I bet if I put my hands on her waist I could touch my fingers together.

"You never told me your names." I said, taking a seat next to Sara and smiling at her as I filled my plate with small portions of food.

"Star." the woman said. _Ugh, could the names get any worse?_

"Matthew." said my stylist. _Such a normal name for someone in the Capitol_, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue.

"Nice to meet you." I said to Star. The two designers took a seat across from us. Effie sat to my right at one end of the table and Haymitch on the other.

"Today's your _first _training day." Effie said ecstatically. She reminded me of a mother, proud to see her child's first steps. I let my head shake. I already made myself a mental note to stay away from snares until the last minute, but it wouldn't hurt to work on the knots that I have trouble with.

"Yay." I said sarcastically, shoving a tiny biscuit smothered in gravy into my mouth. Sara let out a quick, small laugh and nudged me in the ribs.

"Very exciting!" Sara said, her face completely straight except for the corners of her lips.

"Isn't it?" Effie's lips grew into a strange, almost frightening smile. _She probably can't wait to watch me die, _I thought.

I finished my breakfast in silence as Effie, Sara Haymitch and our stylists talked about the weapons and skills we should focus on. I already had the entire day planned out. First archery, so I could get a feel for the bows and arrows, and then hand to hand combat. They will be plenty of time for training, so I plan to focus on only the necessities for the first few days.

"Well you two better get down there." Haymitch muttered, finishing his glass of blue alcohol with one big gulp.

Effie lead us down to the training room after Sara and I put on our black and silver jumpsuits. They were comfortable, stretchy, and light enough for us to do pretty much everything without the clothes getting in the way. The elevator ride was quick and a little nauseating, but I managed not to have my breakfast come back up in the confined space.

The elevator doors open to a huge gymnasium, the other 22 tributes already standing in front of a tall, athletic trainer by the name of Atala. Sara and I walk over to her and join the other tributes without saying a word. She explains the training room, the weapons and different stations that are spread out around the large space. We're allowed to do anything we want, except for fight with the other tributes and go to stations our mentor has forbidden us to visit.

My eyes wander over to the archery station. There's three bows hanging horizontally on a stand, and two quivers for every bow on the shelf above. All of them are standard Capitol silver, but one of them is a flatbow, like the ones Katniss and I use, and the two others have their limbs bent into different shapes. I stare directly at the one in the middle, a medium sized recurve bow with metallic limbs and a slightly rounded, square handle. Back at home, the arrows Katniss and I shoot always rest on the side of our hand as we draw back the string, but these bows have a section cut of of the riser for the arrow to rest on.

The woman finishes talking and dismisses us. The career tributes immediately take their favorite stations and the rest of us wander for a couple minutes before the trainers start beckoning us over. I don't go to archery just yet, I decide to take a look at my competition before I do anything.

As I walk around the perimeter of the gym, I pick out the career tributes. District One's male tribute is a tall and thin, but he's strong enough to use a sword with brutal force. He's also good with throwing knives like the female tribute. District Two's male tribute takes up a large mace and caves in one of the training dummy's head as I walk by, and the black haired girl is shooting arrows and throwing spears at human silhouettes. Her aim is definitely not anything close to Katniss and I, but she's occasionally able to put a couple arrows in the target's head and chest, most of her shots either pierced the arm or missed completely. I'm surprised to see that I'm bigger than most of the tributes, but as I walk over to the hand to hand combat station I mistake the tribute for being the trainer.

He's grappled on the floor with the older man, his legs wrapped around the trainer's torso and holding his neck between his large arms. I recognize him from district seven, the years of working with wood have made him large and strong, and worst of it, he's about an inch taller than me. I hoped to stay clear of him in the games.

"Oh," he said, catching a glimpse of me, "You want to try?" he let go of the trainer, who gasped for breath as the tribute back away from the station. I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, or actually giving up the station.

"No, but thanks." I said. His brown eyes were locked on me, thick eyebrows narrowed in confusion. He was obviously an expert in combat, if he could bring the trainer down and still have energy left over.

His large hand stretched outward toward me. "Ash." he muttered.

I took his hand, squeezed it slightly and shook it, "Gale."

"Well," he whispered, putting his hands on his hips, "I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah," I turned away from him and walked over to the archery station, the girl from two was taking instructions from the trainer, he told her to keep her shoulders back as she pulled the string back because it would help with arrow flight.

I pull the bow I was eyeing off of it's shelf and sling the matching quiver over my shoulder. The arrows I grab are too short for me, so I end up having to pull of the quiver and switch it for the other one. The instructor takes his eyes off of the girl and watches me sling the sheath over my shoulder, tilting his head in confusion. The girl from district 2 has her quiver strapped to the side of her hip, and the instructor must think I'm mental because of how I put the bag on.

I'm in complete awe. The bow is flawless. It's limbs curve in a beautiful arch near the handle, and toward the tips of the bow it curves again, this time away from me. The handle fit perfect in my large hand, I wouldn't have to worry about my grip being too weak or too firm anymore. The arrows and perfectly straight, and the fletchings are cut in lines straighter than

My hand reaches back for the nock of the arrow, and I pull out the silver, shining arrow and fit it onto the string in under a second. I take a couple seconds to regulate my breathing and draw the string back, bringing the bow up to the target and pointing the tip at the heart. The string is thinner than the one at home, and the weight of the bow is a little heavier too. Even though the arrows are straighter they're noticeably heavier than the wooden ones I'm familiar with. The shelf makes aiming a lot more troublesome than I thought it would. I have to adjust my aim several times before I let the arrow fly, the tip pierced into the chest of the target with a satisfying _boom. _

I shot three arrows before I got used to how the bow functioned, all of them hitting the chest of the silhouette. After taking time to settle myself again, I unleashed arrow after arrow, reloading and firing so fast that I felt the callouses on my fingers start to reopen. _Boom _after _boom _echoed through the gym as each arrow flew into it's mark. My hand reached back for another, only to find that I had spent all of them already.

The trainer's mouth was wide open as I turned around, pulling the quiver strap from my shoulder.

"I've _never _seen anything like that," he stated, "Your grouping is amazing." In all honesty, it could be better. Katniss could reload and shoot at least twice as fast as me, and her shots always met their mark.

A couple years ago, Katniss and I had snuck out of school to do some target training. The snow was collecting on the ground and the game was inactive for the past couple of days, she said that the only way we could practice was shooting at the trees, marked with a small circle at the stump. My arrows were hitting the thick bark of the tree, inches away from the center mark. I still had trouble keeping my technique in top shape, and my arrows were never consistent. She had been shooting for so much longer than me, every single shots not only met their marks, but she managed to break the end of and arrow by shooting it. The fletchings had flown off, and the shaft had split in half and disappeared into the brush. She had to have different targets to shoot at because she would hit the arrows she previously shot.

I overlooked my shots again. They were spread all over the chest, each of them being at least a lung shot.

"Thanks." I said to the trainer, putting my bow back on the shelf and setting the empty quiver next to the others.

I spent the rest of the day sneaking stares at the other tributes. The tributes from one and two were all stubborn, and they fought over the stations that they wanted to visit. Twice in one hour, the male tributes from one and two had to be separated because they were threatening to kill each other with swords and knives. I learned that Ash was good witch axes and spears, hand to hand combat was also one of his best skills, but I also watched him start a raging fire in under a minute. Normally, it took both Katniss and I at least an hour to start a small fire for cooking the game that we didn't trade. Some new knots were added to my mental collection from the trainer at the station, and I showed him two small snares that I had designed to trap rabbits. Sara had talked to me a couple of times, once to compliment my archery skill and the others to ask about how training was going.

She wasn't training like the rest of us, she just walked around and watched the other tributes show their skills.

I went back to the archery station, greeted the trainer and took the same bow and refilled quiver again.

"Wait." he interrupted as I slid out an arrow. He walked away for a minute, coming back with a small sack of bright yellow balls over his shoulder, stepping onto the range about fifteen yards in front of me. "Ready?" he asked, clutching a ball in his hand. They were about the size of a cup, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to hit them.

Giving a nod, he threw the ball so high that it almost touched the ceiling. I bit my lip and nocked an arrow, drawing the string to the side of my chin and releasing the arrow as the ball fell back to the gym floor. The projectile flew through the ball and into the wall, too high up to retrieve. Another ball flew in the air, but this time I couldn't pull and arrow out fast enough to shoot it, so it bounced away to another station. He tossed another one, not as high as the others, but I still sent an arrow through it.

I didn't leave the archery station until it was time to leave, and I got so many dirty looks as I strode toward the elevator that the hair on my neck rose. I had made myself an enemy to the rest of the tributes, and I knew that they would try to kill me before I got my hands on any weapons.

Just as Sara and I got onto the elevator, I saw the male tribute from district one glaring at me, an evil smirk on his lips as he took his thumb drew a line across his neck. He was going to kill me.

I had just enough time to let my eyes widen with fear before the doors closed, and the elevator shot us up to the third floor


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR's NOTE!** _Im REAAALY sorry I haven't posted in a while. I currently don't have a desktop and finals are coming up at school... I've still been writing, it's just hard t sit down and write an entire chapter in one night! I haven't forgot about you guys I promise! I love how much positive feedback this story is getting! Remember to like/comment/favorite And maybe even share with someone if you're enjoying this story so far... Again sorry for not posting as often, but I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

Chapter 6

He was looking right at me. The games haven't even started yet and I already have someone threatening to kill me. I crossed my arms with anxiety as the elevator shot Sara and I back to the 12th floor, where we're greeted by an overly happy Effie, who leads us into the dining room.

The sun was setting over the peaks of the Capitol's snow covered mountains, sending long, orange streaks into the pink clouds. Below us, there was a loud humming from the people walking around the streets filled with the roaring cars riding along the streets.

Sara separated from us immediately and went into her room without saying a word. I didn't see her eat anything except for breakfast before training, she wasn't even around for lunch today in the training center.

Was she trying to kill herself off by starvation before the games? I pictured Effie finding Sara's body cold and lifeless in her bed, still tangled in the silky sheets the morning of the games. I didn't understand, I'd rather take a knife to the back and die within minutes rather than starve for days. Maybe she was trying to get used to not eating very much? That couldn't be it, both of us have never seen this much food in the span of our lives, so why is she avoiding dinner?

As Effie, Haymitch and I sat at the table eating, the mute man brought me another glass of water with a melancholy look in his eyes.

"Thank you." I said to him, giving a smile and a nod.

"Oh, don't speak to _him, _dear." Effie scolded, wiping her lips with a bright yellow napkin.

"Why?" I spat. I knew, of course, but I didn't like having a slave, because if I was in that man's position, I'd jump out of the window.

"_Because_," Effie's eyebrows narrowed slightly, "that's just the way it is."

"Well I can at least thank him. I'm not trying to start a conversation." I argued, shoving a piece of steaming duck breast into my mouth.

"There's no point anyway." Haymitch said, nuzzling his drink close to his face. The man moved away from my side and slid behind Effie to hand her a bubbling green drink. I noticed his head, moving back and forth very slowly, barely noticeable. The image of him sealing his lips with his fingers played through my mind again, _don't talk, _I pictured him saying.

This whole thing was so wrong. Not only am I being forced to fight other kids for my life, but I'll also be a part of the Capitol's society for a couple of weeks. Having slaves, eating everything imaginable while the districts starve, being fully clothed in silk fabrics while my family wears rags. I gritted my teeth and shoved the rest of my dinner down before I went to bed, hating Effie, the Capitol citizens, President Snow and the crude-minded people who came up with the Hunger Games.

The next morning, I was the first to get up and get breakfast. I sat on the expensive leather couch eating and drinking things that could easily ruin the furniture's perfect surface, but I was so captivated by the beauty in the rising sun, and the colors reflected off the mountains that I didn't really care. It wouldn't matter anyway, in a couple weeks, I'll either be dead or rich enough to buy new furniture for the entire training center.

Haymitch walked out of his room, his feet dragging on the hardwood as he got a cup of spiked coffee and a small, cinnamon covered bagel. He didn't notice me until he plopped down on the couch and I moved to get another cup of coffee.

"Woah," he said, steadying his cup before it could spill, "didn't see you." I gave a weak chuckle and poured the steaming, black liquid into my cup, pondering whether I could fit another roll in me before I exploded. I decided against it, knowing it would be better not to stuff myself before training.

The silence in the room would have been nice if I was by myself, but for some reason Haymitch's presence threw off the relaxed feeling.

"Heard about you in training yesterday." he muttered, sipping at his drink.

"Yeah," I shrugged, "I said I could shoot.

I met his gaze as he let out a loud laugh that would surely wake the others, "Yeah but," he finished his 'coffee' ,"you never said you could shoot tennis balls out of the sky!" My head fell to the floor, but I forced a smile onto my face.

"Surprise." I said sarcastically. Haymitch's face turned serious once again.

"Have you considered allies?"

"Nope."

"You should." he pressed.

"I can handle myself." I argued defensively.

He laughed again, this time shaking his head, "But can you handle the career pack?"

No. Between arrows and knives being thrown at my head and swords and heavy maces being swung around I'd have no chance. But I could outsmart them, climb into a tree and pick a couple off with arrows or trap one of them in a spring snare. My only chance was to either steer clear of any other tributes- which is impossible- or hope the careers don't form an alliance to hunt the rest of us down, which is also guaranteed to happen.

Most of the years, out tributes die at the very start trying to get their hands on supplies. But when District 12's tributes manage to escape from the bloodbath, they're hunted down and killed by the careers who've teamed up together to hunt down the weak. It's because of the alliances made in the games why the careers win almost every year. The other districts never stand a chance because they're too scared to band together. I couldn't make that mistake.

"You don't _have _to," Haymitch says, "but you'd have a better chance."

Every alliance ends though, either one person gets stabbed in the back or two people die because they turned on one another. One of the careers usually kills their teammates at night, while everyone is sleeping.

"Everyone always turns on each other," I argue, still believing I can win this single handed.

"Well," Haymitch shrugged, getting out of his seat, "you're either the hunter, or the hunted."

I sat uncomfortably with the words Haymitch left me with, sipping coffee and watching the mountains. The morning went by rather quickly before Effie was literally pushing Sara and I out the door and into the elevator.

"Work hard!" she commanded before the doors closed in her face and the elevator shot us down below ground.

"Can you do me a favor?" I whispered to Sara.

She looked up at me curiously, "Sure, what is it?"

"I need you to check on the other tributes. Eavesdrop on the career tributes, the boy from District One has been giving me death threats."

"Well," she shrugged, "everyone's going to kill each other anyway," she muttered.

She was right, we're all planning on doing whatever it takes to get back home, but I have a feeling I'm going to get a spear to the back before the games start.

"Yeah but," I pursed my lips, "this guy's _nuts."_

"I'll see what I can do." she said as the elevator doors opened.

Just as I stepped out into the gym, the boy from District One caught a glimpse of me and threw his sword into one of the dummy's neck. The blade went straight through until it stopped abruptly at the hilt, and the target fell over with a loud crash.

Sara gave me a look. _I know, _I wanted to say. I could see the smirk as he fetches his sword, ripping it from the target roughly and setting the fake human back on its feet.

"Meet me by archery after lunch," she whispered, walking quickly over to a vacant station near the careers.

I could feel the eyes on the back of my head as I walked to an empty station. THe trainer seemed pleased, I guess not a lot of people visited him.

He walked me over to a table and began showing me different kinds of plants, their uses and where they can be found. Some of the greenery I recognized, but the others were so foreign I felt like I was crossing the boundaries of District 12 for the first time. Hoping that I would get hints of the arena's landscape proved futile when he started describing plants in all different kinds of environments. Plants in extreme heat, cold, high and low humidities, and high altitude climates were all on the table.

He held out bark of a tree and showed me the inner, softer pieces that can be eaten or melted into a solid, strong glue.

Katniss said her father used to glue from the forest's treebark to secure the arrowheads onto the shafts, but that was one of the many skills that had been lost with his death.

"How often do the careers come to visit you?" I ask, inspecting inspecting more edible berries and their matching bushes.

"Almost never." he muttered, letting out a laugh as he shook his head, "shame too, this stuff is useful."

"Very," I said. I thanked him and moved to the knot tying station. The trainer seemed happy to see me again, because I knew all except two of the complicated knots the instructor walked me through.

"You're good with rope." the woman complimented, tugging on the solid hangman's noose I just secured.

"Thanks. I used to make necklaces back home," I lied, keeping my face straight. Even now, when I'm going to be facing certain death, the Capitol can't find out my trespassing and poaching, they would whip me, probably until I died.

"Well," she shrugged, "that hobby may, well, save your life." She smiled and I moved away from her, striding over to the archery range.

"So," I whipped around, suddenly noticing the large figure following me, "necklaces huh?"

It was Ash, leaned against one of the many racks with swords and knives resting on the shelves.

"Yeah," I said, wanting to run. There was something off about him. How long has he been listening to me? Not to mention following me around watching me.

"So where did you learn to shoot?" he asked, crossing his arms and walking slowly to meet me.

"Hidden talent." I said, a little too nervously.

His head shook, almost seeming disappointed. "You clench your jaw when you lie." he had closed the gap between us. The thin eyebrows above his brown eyes were narrowed to a point, not in anger bus as if he was trying to see though my hardened expression.

I raised an eyebrow. Katniss had told me the same thing before, how I clenched my teeth together as hard as I could, trying to keep my face serious.

"Well at least my nose doesn't grow." I spat, turning my shoulder and striding away. I knew I had shown too much of my skills this time, and one tribute obviously knew I had training outside of the games. He wouldn't tell. Would he? They would have em executed and send another tribute from home to take my place. They'd probably take Rory. My stomach turned. No, the gamemakers would just be sure I die brutally in the games, slow and agonizing like I deserved.

By lunch time, when all the tributes from the other districts had gathered to get the roasted groosling and baked chicken with steamed vegetables, I slipped away to meet Sara ovary at archery.

I slid the sheath over my shoulder and grabbed a bow. The trainer had increased the distance of the targets, and they were starting to be out of my comfort zone. My hand drew back to fetch an arrow, and I slid one out of the quiver and notched it onto the string.

The bow was as tense as ever, but I still sent the arrow into the silhouette's breast with a satisfying _boom. _

I heard Sara's small footsteps before she spoke, "Hey."

"Hey. Get anything?" I drew back the bow again, an arrow already prepared for fire.

"Not really, he didn't mention you at all." I felt relieved and sent another arrow into the target. I still knew he wanted to kill me, but I thought some inside information would be useful. "I'm worried about the guy from District Seven."

_Ash. _Of course. He's probably been watching me all day, sizing me up, looking at my strengths and weaknesses. He's probably figured out how to catch me off guard, and slit my throat.

"He's had his eye on you for a while now." she ran her fingers through her loose, fire red hair.

"Yeah," I shrugged, "I've seen him."

The rest of the day went by slow. I stuck to trying new things, a sword, throwing knives, maces and hand to hand combat. The teacher was about my size, and he tried his best to teach me about using my opponent's weight against them, but almost every time, it ended with me being thrown on the floor.

"You'll get it," he said encouragingly, helping me to my feet, "eventually."

Eventually? I only had a couple more day of training before my individual assessment, the final interview with Cesear, and after that I'm thrown into the arena. I didn't have eventually, I had a week!

I thanked him before moving to another vacant station. When I reached it, I was totally lost. The table held miniature versions of the arrows in the archery station, the same targets were about 10 meters from a white line. There wasn't a trainer, and I've never seen anybody use 5 inch arrows to kill somebody.

The weapons were about the length of my hand, the color and shape of the fletchings matched the longer arrows exactly, only these were a lot lighter and the arrowheads were shaped differently. I picked one of them up, spun it between my fingers and inspected it before setting it back down onto the metal surface.

"Useless without a little bow aren't they?" I could tell it was Ash, but I didn't bother to look up at him as he moved next to me, toying with the small arrow.

"Pretty much." I said, not interested in another conversation with him.

"That guy from District One really wants you blood," he teased, I looked up, a little bit of fear coursing through me.

"What do you know about that?" I interrogated. He shrugged, "Yesterday, he said he was gonna kill you before you got your hands on a bow. You were too busy shooting balls outta the sky."

For some reason, this rubs me the wrong did he bother? Everyone here was going to crack my head open if it meant they could go home, why did he need to tell me?

"That guy's good with just about everything. It would take a couple of people to bring him down." I didn't like where this was going. Was he suggesting allies? I remembered what Haymitch had said, _You're either the hunter, or the hunted. _I didn't know this kid, and I didn't feel right around him, he was going to kill me off when he got the chance, to him, I'm just another target.

"You want me as an ally?" I questioned, crossing my arms.

"I want to win the games, so do you, and the only way that's going to happen is if we get rid of the careers."

"We'll see." I said aggressively, narrow my eyebrows.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** _I'm REALLY sorry about my absence! On top of finals, I've also had a horrible sickness all week. I promise I haven't forgotten about you guys! Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter! Remember to like./review/favorite! I will try to have the next chapter up ASAP! _

Chapter 7

Breakfast on the third day of training was the best thing that I've ever scarfed down. Scrambled eggs with melted cheese, sausages cooked to perfection, biscuits with thick gravy, bagels of all flavors and coffee that smelled and tasted like sweet vanilla. When I thought I was done, the avoxes filled my plate back up with countless pastries dipped in syrup and pure sugar. Haymitch had to stop me, telling me to slow down before I threw it all back up.

To my relief, Sara ate, but not enough to keep herself full until lunch.

"Hey," I whispered to her, "eat something. We have our tests today."

"Don't really feel like eating." she muttered, sipping her hot chocolate. Most kids from 12 would eat the entire table if they got the chance.

How has training been?" Haymitch questioned, I looked up to answer, only to find his eyes locked on the side of sra's face. She shrugged, taking another tiny bite from a bagel.

I could see the disappointment in both Haymitch and Effie's eyes. Sara has given up any thought of her going home, and without eating and training she stood no chance. Hopefully her death would be quick.

"What have you worked on so far?" Haymitch interrogated, spooning rice into his mouth. Sara's eyes kept avoiding his gaze, her small hands rubbed together nervously.

"I haven't done much of anything." she choked out.

"Oh dear," Effie gasped, "that's not the spirit of the games! You certainly will not make it past the first hour."

I'm so angry at Effie that I want to pick up my knife and throw it at her. She's treating this poor girl's life like it's nothing! How could she tell a 12 year old that she was going to die and never get to see home again?

Without thinking, I slam my fist so hard on the table that a glass falls from the corner. "How about you take her place _Effie?_" I yell, feeling the tendons in my neck strain, "that would show some spirit!" I take my napkin off my lap and slam it onto the table again, stomping off to my room.

Effie's calling for me again, telling me to come back. When I get to my room I slam the door so hard one of the paintings in the other room falls off the wall and my ears ring from the _boom _that echoed through the house.

I shower angrily, scrubbing my already clean skins with the rough loofa and pulling on the ends of my hair as I rubbed the conditioner through it.

This wasn't fair! How could anyone sit around in luxury while children in their own country starve and fight for their lives? It would take one person from the Capitol to stand up and say something for the entire world to realize how wrong this is!

After a while, my fingers start to get soggy, so I shut the water off with a hard punch and dry myself off. I slide into my training jumpsuit, which has been washed and no longer smells like my sweat.

I go out to the living room to find the avox man sweeping up the shattered glass of the painting's frame. He gives a weak, barely noticeable smirk as I walk over to meet Sara. effie wishes us goodluck as we leave, giving me a hard look as I shut the door without replying.

When the elevator doors open, we're escorted into a small room with the other tributes. I'm greeted by the career tributes whispering to each other as they look at me, and Ash smiling slyly in the corner.

I hadn't put much thought into allies, but I knew I didn't want any. I could hunt, use my snares, I know almost all of the plants in the woods, and I can walk through the forest completely silent. Nobody would even bother me, so I wouldn't need anybody to team up with. If I did run into the careers, I could probably pick one or two of them off before having to flee, but having an ally would mean backup if I ever got ambushed. But another mouth means more food, more supplies and more noise, all of those would slow me down.

At the same time, more hands make easy work, so I would have help until the last couple of tributes remained. Alone, I know that I'll be stronger, but something seems appealing about having someone on my side.

Of course, Sara take the only other open seat in the room that isn't next to Ash, so I'm forced to sit with him until his name gets called.

For a while, only the careers talk, but I can tell Ash wants to say something.

"Nervous?" he asks, leaning his elbows on his legs.

"Not really," I say, shrugging, " it's just like another training day."

He let out a tiny, almost inaudible laugh, "Yeah except they're actually watching us. And we're being rated."

I could understand the feeling of pressure. It took me months to get over pressure while hunting with a bow. My shots during practice were accurate, solid enough to bring game down, but I almost always missed the game I came across in the woods. I wasn't sure if it was because Katniss was there, or if it was because I was putting food on the table for my family, but I was too pressure to stay relaxed to bag anything. Katniss claimed that the same thing happened to her, and that I would just need more experience to get over it.

"Don't let pressure get to you," I said, "stay focused."

"Yeah." he whispered.

After about ten minutes, the boy from district one was called into the gym, giving me a smirk as he walked out of the tiny room.

"He's gonna get the best score." Ash commented.

Of course he would! The careers are raised for this, and the rest of us are thrown in there with them as targets. But this year, I would show them up, finally District 12 would have a chance.

"Do you know their names?" I asked.

"Horace is the boy from one," he muttered, eyeing the other careers, "don't know about the others."

Horace reminded me of the wolves in District 12. Piercing eyes, wrinkled nose and sharp teeth that were always bared.

Within five minutes, the girl from two was called, and slowly the room was quieting down.

Ash bounced his foot until District 6 cleared the room, leaving 12 other tributes.

"Hopefully this goes well." he breathed, putting his head down.

When they called his name, Sara got up from the other seat and replaced Ash's place.

"Don't forget to save your snares for last," she whispered.

"Got it." I said, I wished that I could give some other friendly advice, but I'm pretty sure that Sara has nothing she can show to the Gamemakers.

By the time district 11 had been called, my legs had gone numb from sitting so long. I got up to stretch and relax myself, only to find my heart racing faster as the time ticked on. I sat in the room alone for a half an hour after they called Sara, I almost thought that the Gamemakers had forgotten about me, but soon enough the woman was calling me to the gym

"Here we go." I said to myself, striding into the gym. The minute the door closes behind me I make eye contact with the Gamemakers. They're not half as strange as the citizens of the capitol, but their clothing and hairstyles are still so odd that I have to stop and stare. Every single one of them are drunk, laughing and slurring their words beyond comprehension, eating tiny snacks with each other. Just as I get to the center of the gym, one of the Gamemakers bumps into an avox, and a tray of drinks goes crashing to the ground, shouts following.

It takes everything I have not to laugh at all of them, but by the time I reach the rack filled with weapons, I have a full smile on my face.

"Something funny Mr. Hawthorne?"

I stop smiling, take the silver bow and sheath of arrows off the rack and look up at them. There are so many eyes on me right now that I suddenly feel tiny, like a tiny bug being looked upon by a child. The head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, has his eyebrows narrowed to a point.

"No." I say, walking up to the shooting line. My plan is to get archery done and then go show off my snares. If I have time after, I'll show some complex knot tying and maybe move to the edible plants test.

This should be a breeze, by the time they show the scores, I'll be as lethal as the career tributes.

The room is filled with targets. Five human silhouettes about thirty yards away, a cardboard cutout of a deer and a basic bull's eye hanging in the air.

I take my place at the shooting line and take a deep breath, sliding an arrow out an fastening it onto the string. The room is so silent that I can hear the blood pound in my heart and the faint noise of the arrow sliding against the bow as I draw the string back. I'm breathing heavy now, doing my best to keep my shoulders together and a light grip on the bow handle.

My arrow flies into the target's chest, and without pausing I send an arrow into the deer's throat, and another into the bull's eye of the hanging target. I don't stop, targeting hearts, throats and heads until my quiver runs empty. I run down the shooting lane and fetch the ones that I could salvage from the targets, then empty them once again on the targets.

I decide to stay away from snares and move to the edible plants station across from the Gamemakers. I easily pick out the edible ones, but a couple of them I get wrong, and a loud buzzer goes off, echoing through the gym.

I spend about five minutes at the station before I eagerly stride over to the snare station.

I've been itching for so long to get my hands on some wire! There's fake trees and small stuffed rabbits and squirrels and so much fancy wire and rope that I could set a thousand snares before ever running short of wire. I debate on what I should tie first. Maybe just a small game snare to start off, and then a snare that is big enough to trap a human opponent by the foot, and then finish it off with a snare that swings a sharp stick when the tripwire is hit. I'm so excited that I don't hear the Gamemakers calling my name until I take down a coil of rope and tie a slip knot at the end.

"District 12!" Seneca yells. Immediately, I return to the center of the gym and look up at them. What could they want? I'm doing good so far, they can't possibly be bored with me yet.

"You're dismissed. We will have your score in three days." Another man says, finishing his dark red drink in one big gulp.

What? No! I'm not finished! I still have my best skill to show off! I have to argue, ask them for five minutes of their time just to show them one snare.

"Please, just a couple minutes I'll be-"

"You're dismissed, Mr. Hawthorne!" Seneca spits, turning and gathering his coat.

I'm completely appalled, I had saved the best for last and paid for it! How could they? A good tribute finally shows up from District 12 and they don't want to sit and watch? I'm furious, striding out of the gym and into the elevator, punching the number 12 so hard that my skin breaks open. This was my one chance to show everyone what I'm capable of and I let it slip through my fingers!

I get up to the 12th floor and I sprint into my room, shutting and locking the door behind me and putting my back against the wood. There's a knock on the door, Effie and Sara are calling my name, asking what happened.

"Go away!" I shouted, choking the anger down my throat. I wasn't sure why a tear escaped my eye, but I quickly wiped it away and got up to throw myself onto my bed.

My life is literally hanging by a thread! Now my score will be lower, and the chance for sponsors is thinner, and my chances of dying are higher. Because of those lost minutes, I might never get to go home, never get to see my family or Katniss ever again. All because I tried to save the best for last! How could I be so stupid?

After an hour of hitting myself and beating the feathers out of my pillows, I finally calm down, taking deep breaths and remembering that I can still win.

Sponsors wouldn't matter. If I got my hands on a bow and a little bit of supplies I would have at least a little chance, and when the games started and everyone saw how strong I am, I would get sponsors. I have a chance, even if it is still a small one. I go to bed without getting anything to eat, my dreams filled with the smells of District 12's pine trees, the cool water, the chirping of the birds and the taste of Katniss' lips upon mine.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** _Thanks for reading! Sorry ive been inactive lately, but I hope you all had a Merry Christmas! Be sure to like/follow/favorite and review my story! Thanks!_

Chapter 8

The sun was hot and bright on my shoulders, and my hair burned under the hot rays as I walked over the dam's large wall. The stone clicked under my feet as I broke into a slow jog, but the rushing water would use as cover for my loudness. Nobody knew about my ventures into the woods except for my family, not to mention the poaching that I commit on a daily basis. If any of the Peacekeepers knew, I'd be shot on sight, or whipped, or thrown into the Hunger Games as punishment. I had to keep this a secret from everybody.

I looked through the large leather satchel one last time, making sure I had enough twine to reset my snares and the knife I stole from the kitchen. Hopefully the snares I already set have gotten something, but if they haven't I need to set a lot more so I can figure out the areas that the game visit often. The past couple of days I've been fortunate, catching two or three rabbits for my family to split.

The rushing water faded away and soon was replaced by the sound of the wind blowing through the tall grass in the meadow. I could see the fence, as dead as ever, but I still checked over my shoulder for any pursuers. Poaching was a serious crime, not to mention leaving the district, but if I could feed myself and my family, every risk is worth it.

I stopped to listen to the fence, as always it is lifeless, but it never hurts to double check every now and again. The fence rattled quietly as I slid through the gap, and I had to free my bag's strap from a protruding piece of wire before running down the large hill.

The dead leaves crunched under my feet until I reached the shade of the large oak trees. I stopped to listen. The birds were a lot louder than usual, and I could hear all the squirrels up in the trees. If I had a slingshot, I could easily knock one of them unconscious and stuff it in my bag, but a luxury like that doesn't exist. I scooped up a rock and hurled it at one of the brown rodents. The projectile missed by a foot and crashed through the trees, hitting the base of the tree with a loud _thunk. _Angrily, I continued through the woods, following the trail that the game have carved into the ground over the years. Within five minutes, I came across one of my snares, but there wasn't anything hanging from the noose that I had tied, so I continued through the woods and reset all my traps that I already laid. Of course, my lucky streak ends, and my bag is empty. I probably wouldn't eat anything tonight.

The sun had gone down quite a bit since I slipped out of the District. My mother would be worried, so I set one last trap and headed back home.

The woods had gotten a lot quieter. The birds stopped singing so loudly and the squirrels were noticeably less active. Even the trees seemed to try to stay quiet as their leaves rustled in the wind.

Whenever a predator is around, the forest stops being so alive, as if to hide from the threat lurking around. Hopefully it was something small, like a dog that I could easily escape from, and not a bear, or anything else big.

By the time I was nearing the fence, the birds had stopped singing all together and the woods were lifeless. Whatever had the animals on edge was close, so I pulled out the knife and kept my eyes open for the predator.

I could hear the rustling, the small noise of feet on the dirt and moving leaves. I slipped behind a tree and took a deep breath. There wasn't any decent sized trees that I could climb to get away, so I would either have to run or kill whatever is yards from me. Without making a sound, I crouched down and darted from behind the tree, hiding behind another bush where I could see.

The predator wasn't an animal at all. Infact it was human, a girl, with dark brown hair and olive skin. She was at one of my snares, which had a rabbit hanging by its foot three feet off the ground.

She was following me! Stealing my game! _My _game! My family was going to starve for another day thanks to her! Angrily, I stood up and marched over to her.

"You know, stealing is punishable by death!" I warned, tucking the knife back into my satchel. She whipped around, my rabbit swinging on the branch.

"I wasn't stealing!" she called back, "I was just looking." she put her head down, and as I walked up to her, I noticed the strap over her shoulder and the long piece of wood she was carrying.

"What's your name?" I interrogated, still thinking this girl was out for my rabbits.

"Katnip," she whispered.

"Well Katnip, that's my rabbit! I caught it."

"_Katniss!_" she hissed, a lot louder than before.

She had something slung over her shoulder, wood sticks with three feathers plastered near the end, and the long piece of wood she was carrying was braced with a thin string, causing it to bend.

"Can I see that?" I asked, a little nicer than before. Hesitantly, she handed it over to me. It was a bow! And it was absolutely beautiful. The wood had been carved from what could be a knife, and whoever made it had talent. I could see the smudges and scratches from where the arrows had left the bow, but other than small nicks and scratches the weapon was absolutely flawless.

With this, Katniss could take out the squirrels that I could never trap. I had to make one for myself, and figure out how to use it. I couldn't help but smile brightly at her as I handed it back.

The second my eyes open I know I'm still dreaming. My room is still the same, the walls are brightly colored and the blankets on my bed are silky. But instead of large, tall buildings outside my window, there's a large, vaguely lit forest. Pine trees and thick bushes are outside, their leaves shading the ground from what little light is stretching through the morning sky.

The door opened with a small click, and Katniss walked through the door, bow in hand and arrows slung over her shoulder. She was wearing her normal brown hunting pants and leather jacket, but her braid was neater than usual, and her skin seemed to glow.

"Hey, Katnip." I muttered, stretching my lips into a smile.

"Hey," she smiled back and set her bow down, hanging the sheath of arrows on the doorknob as she closed it, "I didn't get anything, not a hunting day I guess."

"That's alright." I whispered, supporting my neck with my hands.

"I'm dreaming." I say, pursing my lips. Katniss stopped, her face saddened.

"Yeah, you are." she crossed her arms. I felt a bit of depression settle over me. I looked out to the woods. I could see the pond in the distance, and the birds splashing in the cool water.

Katniss took her jacket off and set it on the desk, then walked over to my bed.

"What are you doing?" I question, and in response she climbs over the covers and plants a small kiss on my cheek. She pulls away, and rests her head on my bare chest, wrapping her arms tightly around my torso.

"I miss you," I say, hugging her waist a little tighter with my arm, "I miss waking up early in the morning to hunt with you."

She picks her head up, forcing me to let her go, and looks at me. "So come home," she commands, putting a hand on my chest, "come home."

"Okay." I say, and before I can kiss her I'm slipping out of my dream and back into reality.

I wake up, not to a big window with a view of the woods but to Effie, poking me in the head with one of her skinny fingers. She's wearing a skirt with a ton of different animal furs as fabric and matching pants that look too small for her.

"Rise and shine! Your scores are posted today!" she cheers, smiling and clenching her fists in excitement.

It has been three days since my failed attempt at impressing the Gamemakers. I know that I'll have a decent score, but I didn't get a chance to show them a single snare before I was dismissed. I spent most of the nights regretting my choices on the stations I visited, wishing I had spent less time at archery so I could show off my snares. Most of the time, I just laid in bed thinking about home. Every time I close my eyes I'm in the woods, so I get as much sleep as my body can handle before I can't lay down anymore.

"Up, up, up!" Effie commands, walking out of my room, closing the door tightly.

I force myself to get up, take a quick shower and dress. When I walk out, Effie, Haymitch, Sara and our stylists are all sitting on the couch, listening to Caesar talk endlessly about last year's games and his favorite tributes. I get myself a small plate of breakfast and a cup of hot chocolate. I know I should slow down on the fatty drink, but I could really use a couple of pounds for the arena.

Within ten minutes, Caesar gives the announcement that the scores are in, and he begins announcing the names of tributes and their scores. Horace scores a ten, and the rest of the career tributes score a nine. The rest of the tributes range from five to seven. Ash scores a nine, and once again, the scores drop back to the lower numbers. Finally, their calling my name, and it seems like an eternity before Caesar speaks again.

I know I'll have a low score. I didn't shoot tennis balls out of the air like on my first day of training, so they won't be impressed by my archery skill. At best, my archery will get a seven. With the combination of the knots I tied and the edible plants score I could score an eight.

I'm biting my nails, and Caesar announces, "Nine!" Effie gives me a light slap on the shoulder and congratulates me, and Haymitch nods in approval. I scored almost as high as Horace and I didn't even show my best skill! My chance of sponsors are equal to the careers now! I force myself to sit down and listen for Sara's score.

Caesar, once again, drabbles for a minute before announcing her score. "Eight!"

What? How? How does the girl who has done absolutely nothing score one point below me? What could she have shown them to impress them so much? Haymitch's eyes widen and his eyebrows narrow to a sharp point. Sara's stylist jumps up in joy and Effie's mouth is wide open. I fix my eyes on the twelve year old who almost showed me up. _How did you score that high? _I want to scream. Nothing made sense anymore. She hasn't been eating, training, and I'm sure she hasn't been sleeping either. There has to be some mistake!

"Congratulations." I say to her calmly, of course, I want to grab her by her shirt collar and shake her until she tells me how she got that score, but I keep my temper in line and smile at her.

What could she have shown them? As I finish my breakfast, I think of all the things that Sara could have been good at. Of course, I think of nothing, so I'm left with an empty plate to puzzle around her score.

"Done!" my stylist screeches, rubbing his strangely colored hands together. I'm dressed in a black, silky suit with green trim on the cuffs and tie. My pants match the coat, and my shiny shoes match the brown of the undershirt I'm wearing. I literally resemble a tree. Thank God it's not coal again.

"Of course, you'll be last, so make sure you give them a show!" Effie says excitedly, brushing off lint that has found its way onto my shoulder.

For some reason, my stylist decided to, once again, leave my stubble untouched. I've never left my facial hair to grow this long before, and now I can easily grab the thin hairs with my fingers. Honestly, I thought it was annoying to have my face unshaven, but when I asked to get rid of the hair, my stylist blew me off.

As I look myself over in the full sized mirror, I can't help but wonder what kind of impression I'm making on everybody back at home. All the costumes and interviews and fancy clothes don't even make me seem like myself. I wish they would let me go out in the green and brown clothes I wear while hunting, and that I could say whatever crossed my mind during the interview. But tonight, I have to be an enjoyable person. Fun. Nice. Appealing, but at the same time, fearsome like the careers.

I line up behind Sara and listen to the other tributes talk with Caesar. The roar of the crowd is so loud as Horace walks onto the stage that my ears go out for a couple seconds. Caesar asks Horace how training is going, and his strategy for the games. Of course, Horace says nothing useful, so my hopes on knowing his strategies goes to shame. Then their calling the others, and each interview is over in a couple of minutes.

Ash walks onto the stage and the crowd goes absolutely insane for him. His suit is similar to mine, except he has a gray undershirt and silver for the trim. His interview is completely about training, and his life before the reaping.

What was Caesar going to ask me about? If he asked about home, I would have to avoid the fact that I hunt outside of the District, and sell to soldiers of the Capitol. I'd also have to avoid anything about the Hob, my archery skill, and how I learned to tie all my snares. I would have to make a new life fast, or else I would endanger my family back home.

After Sara is pushed on stage, I rapidly think of all the things that I could say to Caesar. I'm just a boy from District 12, who spends his days at school learning about the Captiol, and when I get out of school I walk home with my friends, and then help my brothers with their homework. Of course, I'll be telling a complete lie. I ditch school. A lot. And I go outside the district to hunt the animals and illegally trade to starving people and Peacekeepers.

I don't bother listening to Sara's interview. The minute she gets onto the stage she's as shy as ever.

Before I know it, Sara is exiting the stage and I'm standing in the darkness of the curtain, waiting for Caesar to call me out.

"Gale Hawthorne!" he screams into the microphone, and then I'm literally pushed by the guard onto the stage. The crowd is absolutely mind blowing. I've never seen so many people so excited to be in one place. Girls are calling my name, throwing roses at me and blowing me kisses. Someone holds up a sign with my name and a big 12 painted onto the surface. I walk to Caesar, managing not to fall on my face before I get to him. He greets me with a hard handshake and sits me in the chair next to him.

I'm still mesmerized by the crowd to acknowledge him. I watch the citizens until they all sit down and the room goes quiet.

"So Gale," Caesar breaths, putting a foot on his knee, "You and Sara got very high scores for someone from 12. Do you want to tell us more about that?"

For someone from our District? He just called every tribute from my District in history weak! I clench my fists in my chair and sit up straight in my chair.

"I just showed the Gamemakers what I'm made of. That I can win too." The crowd claps in my response, and Caesar hushes them immediately.

"What gives you an advantage over the other tributes?" he questioned.

What kind of question is that? He must be getting bored of asking a bunch of teenagers serious questions.

_My hunting experience, _I want to say, _the years and years of being in the woods catching and killing game. _

"Well," I breath, "back home, my brothers and I used to sword fight with the sticks from our tree. And we wrestled a lot. So the games can't be that different from that." I'm proud of my answer, managing not to give away any unwanted information.

"Well I'm sure it can't be." Caesar laughs, and the crowd chuckles with him. I laugh nervously, and clench my jaw, preparing myself for his next question.

"So Gale, what is home like?"

Horrible. Filthy. Covered in so much coal dust that your shoes can't be any other color except for black. Once again, I hold my tongue and think of a lie. Maybe I should just change subjects?

"Home's great! But it's nothing compared to the Capitol. The mountains are absolutely amazing to look at when the sun is setting."

"I think that too! Of course, I've never lived in twelve!" A hard, loud, almost forced laugh comes from Caesar, and the crowd responds with their own distinct laughs.

After a couple seconds of this, Caesar turns to me, puts his elbows on his knees and speaks into the microphone, "I have one last question for you. Is there a special someone back at home? A young woman perhaps?"

Katniss. The girl whose father died with my own. The beautiful girl with the complicated braid, perfect aim with a bow and smile that makes all the animals in the woods stop to look. The girl who I met in the woods, thinking she was stealing my rabbit that I snared. My best friend that I've been in love with for years.

My smile answers for Caesar, and crowd gives a quiet response of sighs.

"I knew it! So have you two been together for a while?"

"No," I say, "She probably doesn't even know that I've felt this way for most of my life." Caesar's expression hardens.

"Well, she knows now. And all you have to do is win, and get back to her!" Caesar cheers, and the crowd stands up. As I stand up to shake his hand, Caesar wishes me good luck and the people start calling my name again. There's so many flashes that I'm practically blind as I walk off stage.

I should have said something to her sooner. Because now, Katniss knows that our kiss wasn't something out of lust, or because I didn't know how to direct my emotion. Now she knows that I've been head over heels for her for years.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:**_So this chapter is kind of short, but I had to update. I'm going to try to post a new chapter every other day to keep you guys interested! I hope you enjoy! Thanks for your comments and reviews! Be sure to like and follow! _

Chapter 9

In just half a day, I'll be thrown into the arena with 23 other kids my age. These could be my last moments to live, and right now I'm spending them on the shower's cold floor, letting the hot water pour onto my head. There's a quiet knock on the door. It's probably Effie, wondering why I've been in here so long.

"Go away!" I shout angrily, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them tightly. There's not a response, so whoever was there obviously left.

I let out a heavy breath, "How did I get here?" I ask myself.

After a couple of minutes I shut the water off gently and dry myself off. The person in the mirror is much different than the one I saw so many times before. After being in the Capitol for so long, my skin cleared up, my hair is silky, I can't count my ribs anymore and my skin lightened a shade from the absence of dirt and coal dust.

I guess the Games have a bit of an upside. Before I'm sent to certain death, I get to look perfect.

I jump into bed in only underwear. I'm sick of all the fancy clothes that are in my closet that are meant for sleeping. I should go out to see Haymitch, Sara and Effie, but I assume that I'll see them tomorrow morning and lay my head on the pillow.

It only takes me a minute to figure out that I'm not going to get any sleep tonight. What do the Gamemakers have in store for me tomorrow? Will I be thrown into a desert? The plains? A toxic land where the almost all the plants are poisonous? Hopefully, there will be trees, and water everywhere. I'm hoping for the rolling hills like in District 12, but that's going to be some stroke of luck if I get the terrain of 12. No matter what, I'll have a bow. I've shown the Gamemakers how good I am with one and they can't deny my top weapon now. My snares however, rely completely on the presence of the trees. If I get thrown into a place without any greenery, my snares are out of the question.

I start setting my priorities. First, grab a bow from the Cornucopia without getting a knife in the back, and if I have time, grab a backpack. Hopefully there will be plenty of rope and wire. Then I'll get as far away from the other tributes as possible, and find a lake or a stream of running water. For the first night, I'll set lots of snares if I can, and hopefully by the next morning I can have some sort of food. Of course, I'll have to survive the Careers first.

Horace will hunt me down the first chance he gets. He'll get any weapon close to him and kill me within seconds. I'm his main target. I still don't know about Ash. Tomorrow, his wanted alliance will finally be set in stone, or else one of us gets eliminated.

Hours pass by, and my eyes do nothing but stare out the large window. I think about home. My family. My brothers and mother are probably worried sick right now. I wonder if they're sleeping, or staring at the ceiling like I am? I find myself hugging tightly to the pillow, thinking about all the days I spent with Katniss in the woods. Hunting, fishing, setting snares and exchanging knowledge. What did she think of all this? My training score? She was probably expecting me to score higher than everybody else, and I disappointed her.

I had to get home. Go back to the woods and provide for my family and the people of District 12. If I died in the arena, Katniss would be left to fend for both of our families, and eventually the game would come up short, and all of them would starve. All because of how much I put my name in the Tesserae! How could I be so stupid?

None of it mattered now, because one way or another, my name would be taken out of the glass balls and my sibling's would remain in there.

I think about literally everything. All of my life decisions, the mistakes I've made and what I wish I had done. My thoughts race until the sky starts to light up, and only then my eyes start to get heavy, and I drift off to sleep.

There's a small knock on the door, and Sara's voice is calling my name. I'm not tired at all, even though I've only slept for a couple of hours. Deep down I know that it's time for us to get ready for the games, but I assume that they're going to serve me breakfast first. I jump out of bed and notice the clothes laid out on my desk. Brown pants and a black short sleeve shirt and a pair of lace up boots. I hesitantly put the shirt on, and pull the pants over my hips, making sure to tie the belt tighter than usual. I slip the boots over my pants and start lacing them tight enough so that they stay on. They're some sort of leather, with a hard sole and cushioned interior that ride up to my shin.

I smooth my hair over in the bathroom mirror and brush my teeth. Then walk out of my room quietly. To my surprise, there's not a boatload of food out on the table. Instead, there's four plates with the same meal on them. Eggs, some sort of meat and a glass of orange juice. Sara, Haymitch and Effie are halfway through their meals, and one extra plate sits on the table in front of an empty chair.

I sit down and scarf down the meal, wishing they would let me have one last cup of coffee before my death sentence.

None of us say anything as we all eat, and in 30 minutes theres four soldiers knocking at the door to escort us down.

"Make sure to get a bow." Haymitch whispers to me as we leave the apartment and head toward the elevator.

We're escorted outside, onto a big hovercraft with the rest of the tributes. I'm seated in a chair next to District 11, and a woman comes around with a big needle and asks for my arm.

"What is that?" I say, fearful of the large needle.

She rips my arm out and injects me with it, and as she pressed a button, some sort of light enters my arm. "Your tracker." She says irritably, moving to the next tribute. I try to stay calm, but once the hovercraft takes off my heart rate is through the roof and my breathing is rapid.

It takes us about 20 minutes until we land, and we're all escorted to different locations somewhere underground.

I'm left in a small, silver walled room with my stylist and Haymitch, a big circular platform in the corner of the room.

_This is it. My last chance to speak to Haymitch. _My stylist dresses me in a dark green jacket and secures it with the zipper and button. I can't think straight. I should be asking more survival questions, doing anything to increase my survival rate.

"If you can't get to a bow, just run. Okay?" Haymitch puts his large palm on my broad shoulder and gives a weak smile. I nod.

"What should I do first," I ask, "after the Cornucopia?"

Haymitch rubs his chin. "Shave?" he jokes, letting out a quiet laugh. I don't move. I look him straight in the eyes and purse my lips together. "Find water. Then set some traps if you can. Get away from the other tributes, and if you want, team up with Ash."

No! I don't want a teammate. He's going to slow me down, or stab me in the throat while I sleep!

"Okay." I say, and then a woman with a very pleasant voice states that it's time for launch. My hands are shaking now, and I give Haymitch a hard hug. "Thanks." I tell him, letting him go and stepping onto the metal circle. I'm burning up, not because of anxiety but because of how hot this jacket is. For how light it is, it's got a really good thermal in it.

One minute passes, and the glass tube comes down around me. I take a couple deep breaths before I'm being pushed upward into darkness.

I can feel the plate moving, but there's only darkness for a couple of seconds. I keep my chin up, and my eyes are blinded by the bright light of the sun. Everywhere I look, it's too bright to keep my eyes open. I shield my face with my palm and look out into the arena.

My heart drops instantly, and my heart rate slows to a stop. I can see trees, pine and others that I can't name. Most of them are barren, their leaves fallen down onto the ground. I can see mountains in the distance, their peaks covered in white snow.

As my vision clears, I start to look around. The Cornucopia is dead in front of me, only forty feet of grass stands between me and the goods sprawled out. To my right, there's a large, barren hill covered in grass, and behind me there's a large plain with nothing but grass that reaches up to my chest. To the left and behind the Cornucopia, bare trees.

They put me in something I can work with! As I look to my left at the tributes, my eyes meet Horace. The Gamemakers have put us right next to eachother. I know I'm dead now.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN;**_ HUGE shout out to all of those who are following, favoriting and commenting on my story. I know that sometimes I miss typos, but I hope that doesn't ruin the story for you, and if it does just remember that I'm not publishing a book! xD_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading! LIKE / FOLLOW PLEASE! I'm hoping to get this on the popular page! Thanks! _

Chapter 10

Horace's feet aren't pointed toward to Cornucopia like the rest of us. His feet are pointed at me, and his eyes are narrowed in hatred, and he's ready to pounce. If I can't outrun him, I'll be beaten to death with his fists, or have my head smashed in with his boot. I know I'm in trouble, but I do my best to stay calm and overlook the Cornucopia. I find the silver bow and sheath of arrows on a small box next to a backpack. The Gamemakers have pretty much set me up good, giving me both a weapon and supplies not too far away from each other. I can easily sprint toward the bow, grab it and get away before anybody has the chance to start a fight with me.

The years of hunting in the woods has made me quick and agile, and I know I can reach it. Horace is the only problem now. If he can run faster than me, I'm dead. But if I get a lead and shoot an arrow at him, I can escape.

I keep telling myself that I can do this, and keep my eyes locked on the bow and arrows. Those are mine. There's no telling what's inside the green backpack, but as far as I can tell its got a decent amount of supplies, and the color will blend in well with the woods. I silently thank the Gamemakers for giving me trees, even though there's not any leaves on the branches.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Seventy-third Hunger Games begin!" shouts Claudius. I have sixty seconds. I take a lot of deep breaths, and smooth my hair over, getting the bangs out of the way. I fix my jacket and check my shoes for any loose knots. There's not enough time to retie them, so I tuck the laces inside the boot and get ready to run. Half of the minute is up, and as each second passes I grow more anxious. I don't fall while running, and I know that I can't start today.

I take another look at Horace. He smirks and takes his finger and draws a line over his neck and points at me. The audience knows he's after me, and they're eager to watch us fight.

I know I don't have long, so I ignore Horace and get ready to run.

_Get the stuff. Run. Find water. Hunt. _My priorities are set.

After another ten seconds the gong rings out. I leap off my pedestal and sprint full speed toward my bow. I quickly outrun Horace, and fly over the rough terrain flawlessly. The wind is so loud that I can barely hear my feet hitting the ground as I run. Within seconds I'm at my weapon, slinging the quiver strap over my torso and loading the silver bow with a deadly tipped arrow. I quickly spin in a great circle and aim the projectile right at Horace's chest, releasing the string. With a loud whistle, the arrow flies through the air toward my opponent, but he's too far away to hit accurately and my arrow flies over his head as he shoulder rolls forward.

Without pausing, I grab my bag and slip it onto my shoulders. The other tributes are at the Cornucopia now, grabbing weapons, slashing and hacking at each other mercilessly. The boy from District 2 has a mace now, and he swings it at one of the younger tributes, causing their skull to cave in like spoiled fruit.

The sight makes me want to throw up, but I force myself to turn on my heel and run toward the back of the Cornucopia. Suddenly I stop. There's no guarantee that my bag has a knife in it! So I quickly run back and enter the mouth of the Cornucopia. There's a large array of swords, spears and knives on the back wall, but I find a small, serrated knife and grab it. To my horror, another tribute is in the small space with me. I stop quickly and load my bow, pulling the string of my bow back to my chin, but I can't send the arrow into the 12 year old standing in front of me. The red hair. The small stature. It's Sara.

"Don't shoot." she whimpers, holding up her hands. I back away slowly, circling her until I can get out of the tunnel. The air is cold, I can see my breath as I start jogging away again. My lungs start to sting, but I push away the pain and round the corner of the metal Cornucopia. I sprint to the back and toward the woods.

I hear the footsteps behind me, and I turn around, raising my bow to shoot. The heavy body slams into me, knocking my bow out of my hand and the little amount of wind that was in my chest. Horace has pinned me to the ground, putting my arms under his bony knees.

"You're dead!" he hisses as he raises a large knife and drives it at my head. I jerk my head to the side, causing the knife to plunge deep into the ground, and buck my hips as hard as I can. Horace flips over my head, landing on his back. He quickly gets up and swings the knife at me again. I dodge the attack, scoop up the metal bow and smack him in the face with the limb as hard as I can manage. It's enough to knock him over, so I turn to run again. I know he won't pursue me, the end of my bow is bloody and now I have distance to shoot him.

"Just run, Gale," I say to myself, "don't let them catch up."

At the edge of the woods, I stop to look back at the fight. Many of the tributes are fighting each other, the others are running away with what they could salvage from the Cornucopia and the others lay dead on the hard ground. From here, I watch Horace grab a sword and plunge it so hard into another tribute's chest that the tip sticks out on the other side. I cover my mouth, wipe away the horrified expression and run away.

The woods are somewhat similar to 12, the hills roll and there's leaves littering the ground. But I can barely recognize anything here. Every other tree is new and there's so many different shapes and sizes of leaves that I can't keep track of them all. I cross a bush, small berries still hanging from the small sticks. I know that this isn't natural. In 12, there's literally no berries on the bushes when fall comes. This is a trick.

The hill I jog down leads me to yet another set of unfamiliar greenery, and I find myself fearing even touching the bark of the trees. It looks safe enough, but there's no way to tell now.

I don't bother with my backpack. Whatever lies in it isn't going anywhere, so I walk up another hill and sprint down again, dodging trees and leaping over bushes. Every noise I hear is a threat, and I quickly change direction to avoid any more fights. My encounter with Horace was enough to last me a lifetime.

The sky is cloudy, and only a little amount of sunlight stretches through the clouds. As I run along the forest floor, I kick around leaves and snap so many sticks that all the birds have gone dead silent. There isn't any game in sight, and I've been ignorant not to look for any game trails.

An hour passes, and as I go to hurdle over another rock, a loud noise stops me in my tracks. I rip an arrow from my quiver, but there's no threat. Cannon after cannon goes off, signaling the death of each tribute.

7.

8.

9.

There's no more, so I start speed walking through the trees again. Nine tributes dead on the first day. I can't help but wonder if Sara had made it out of the Cornucopia, or if she had met the point of Horace's sword. She had stayed too long in the bloodbath. There's no way- even with an 8- that she made it out alive. She's too small to fist fight, and all the other tributes tower over her. I'll know who is dead after the sun goes down, when the project the kids who were killed in the sky.

I could jog for another half hour or so, but I save my energy in case I don't have any water. I slow down, putting my hands on my head and take deep, rapid breaths. As my breathing and heart rate drop to normal, I allow myself to sit on a mossy, fallen tree and open my bag.

The first thing I pull out is a raincoat. It's not exactly a luxury jacket, but it will keep any water off of me. I pull item after item out of my bag and take note of everything. Thick rope, leather gloves, scissors, a ball of white yarn, a metal rod, wire that will serve well for my snares and a half empty water bottle. Nothing to purify water, nothing to start fires. I wish they had given me some sort of pot, so I could boil water.

I check over my weapons. The bow is the same one I've used in training, which will make shooting a lot easier. I wipe the thick, sticky blood from the top limp and count my arrows. In my quiver, there's fourteen, which means the Gamemakers gave me fifteen to start off with. Somewhere in that field is my arrow, probably sticking out of the ground near the pedestals.

My knife is flawless. The handle is nice and shaped to fit my fingers and palm, and the blade is sharper than the tips of my arrows. It even came with a small sheath! I take it and clip the sheath onto my belt loop for easy access. I also take some rope and fasten my quiver of arrows to my backpack. The arrows farther back than what I'm used to, but I can still load my bow easily.

Now that I've gotten a chance to look over what I have to work with, I realize how fragile my life is right now. I can't start fires like Katniss can. And if there isn't any running water there is no way I could purify it. Right now my biggest problem is hydration, and when night falls I'll have to keep myself warm somehow.

Downhill. That's my best bet for finding water. So I slip my bag on and start walking down yet another one of the hills. Each valley ends up the same. Dead leaves and dry, no water in sight. I can feel my lips start to chapp, and my throat is burning from all my heavy breathing, but I don't dare break into the bottle I have in my bag. That is all I have right now, and if I use it without having a backup I'll die of dehydration.

Even though every step could mean certain death for me, I enjoy being in the woods again. The birds slowly start to sing and I catch glimpses of rabbits ducking into their holes. I would shoot one, but I'm not hungry and I need water more than I need something to eat. I retain as much saliva as I can, trying not to swallow so I can keep some moisture in my dried throat.

I find a small groove in the ground, and I slide to a stop as I see it. A game trail! Finally! Animals use these to travel on, and more often than not, they lead to water. The only problem is figuring out which way to go.

"Right or left?" I ask myself. I do a quick check to see if there are any tracks in the ground. There's definitely been rabbits here, and other tracks that I can't name, but they go both left and right, so I still have to make a guess.

I wing it, and follow the trail to the left. If I'm correct, this would lead me to the mountains that were in the distance, and there could be a stream flowing from them.

Soon enough, the birds start to quiet. The sun is starting to set. I know I'll have to make camp soon, but I've never had to sleep on the forest floor. I could camp in a tree, but they offer no coverage with their bare branches.

If I stay on the ground, I could be spotted by the other tributes, or eaten alive by some sort of other predator.

After about another half hour, I find a large tree that could serve as my bed for the night. I scale trunk quickly and settle on one of the thicker branches. I hang my backpack on another branch but keep my bow in my hand. Just as I'm about to close my eyes, I hear the anthem playing loudly.

Eagerly, I stand up to see what's going on. I see the Capitol's seal high in the sky, and then all of the tributes start appearing. Simple headshots are shown, along with the district number.

The first to appear is the girl from 3, which means the careers have survived. Then both from 6, followed by the girl from 7. Ash made it through the first day. The female tributes from 8 and 9 both died. Both male and female tributes from 10 are gone. The girl from 11 didn't make it either. All 9 have been shown.

Sara made it? How could a 12 year old from the weakest district escape such a bloody battle? She obviously had some sort of hidden skill that she didn't reveal. I couldn't help but wonder if she actually killed another tribute. How could she? Shes so innocent.

Me on the other hand, could shoot somebody with an arrow no problem. I've already tried to take out Horace, only to waste precious ammunition. Sara however, I couldn't imagine even smacking a fly. If there's any way she could win these games, it would be because she outlasted the other tributes. The careers would have already killed each other, and food has come up short for everybody. If I were to die here, I would want Sara to win. But deep down I know that that might not happen.

It's been such a long day that I don't have any trouble going to sleep. I know that it's dangerous to sleep so heavily in a place like this, but I let myself doze off and dream of home.

I wake up to the sound of my own stomach growling loudly. The first signs of dawn are in the sky, and my face is frozen. My bow is still locked in my hands and my backpack still hangs on the branch next to me. As far as I can tell, I haven't let anything crash down to the earth. I immediately regret not setting any snares while I had the chance. I'm starving! Quietly, I stretch and warm my hands, grabbing my bag and slipping it over my shoulders. After securing my bow around my torso, I quickly descend from the tree, silently hitting the ground.

Today, I have to find water. My lips are chapped and my throat is so hot and dry that I could probably snap my tongue in half if I wasn't careful. Yesterday, the game trail didn't bring me to a creek or a river like I was hoping it would, but I had to keep following it if I wanted to have any chance. Before I head out, I allow myself one tiny sip of water from the bottle.

To my surprise, I end up just being thirstier, and my lips feel like they're going to fall off of my face. My legs are still sore from yesterday, but I force myself to stalk along the game's trail, keeping an ear out for any noises.

I've never been out this early in the woods. Honestly, I wish I had been. The birds haven't gotten up yet, and the predators are probably still sleeping, leaving all the rabbits and squirrels for me. After fifteen minutes, I spot a squirrel on the side of a thin tree and aim my arrow carefully at it. It doesn't seem to notice me, so I easily send the projectile into the rodent's neck, pinning it to the tree. Usually, the game squirms around for a couple of seconds, but with this new weapon the creature doesn't suffer for a even a second.

I fetch the game and use some of my wire to tie it onto my hip by its neck. I would put it in my bag, but there's only one flap and I don't want the game to stink up all of my supplies.

Continuing down the trail, I wipe away the blood from the arrow's tip and continue to hunt, but soon I find myself tripping over small rocks and branches. The dehydration is starting to kick in, and I can't hunt. I'm almost tempted to drink my own urine.

I allow myself another sip of the bottle and five minutes to rest.

So far, I know I'm disappointing the crowd. I've only shot two arrows and only one of them has actually met its mark. There's no guarantee they're watching me right this second, but I hope that the Gamemakers will cut me some slack and let Haymitch send me some more water. He would send me gifts, right? He had to! He knows I'm thirsty and have a limited supply of water. I want to scream at him. Why couldn't he just send me a big gallon? It couldn't cost that much!

Angrily, I get up and start marching down the hill again, still keeping to the game trail. I hope I got far enough away from the Careers. They're probably out right now, hunting us down. I know Horace will be on my trail, I left a pretty easy one to follow by shifting around all the leaves yesterday.

I could take him out this time. He'd run after me and I'd get him with an arrow. In the woods, it's hard to recover from falling, and I know that Horace can't run like I can through this kind of terrain.

Feeling really scared of being stalked, I take off my bag and grab the rope, wire and free my knife from its sheath. I go and stomp on the game trail hard so that my boot print is left in the dirt. Then I take one of the branches from a nearby tree and bend it down, securing it by trying one of the rope ends to it. It takes some effort, but I manage to get a strong enough stick to hold the other end of the rope into the ground. Every snare needs a spring, and tripwire, and a noose to catch anything. I take the wire and tie it in a big loop, latching it onto the rope and concealing the loop with leaves.

The trap is brilliant! If Horace is on my tail, he'll follow the tracks I left and end up triggering my snare, causing him to get tied up with the wire. I give myself a slap on the back and continue downhill.

It's late morning now, and I still haven't found any signs of fresh water. I've allowed myself too much water, so now my bottle has one gulp left in it. A horrible headache has found its way into my forehead, causing my vision to get slightly blurry and my steps to drag on the ground.

This is dangerous. I can't shoot when I'm too weak to even draw the bow, and I can't run anymore. If another tribute finds me, I'm dead. I can't really see the game trail anymore, so I'm stumbling through the woods obnoxiously loud. Hopefully, my snare has gotten Horace, or another tribute. If it has, they'll slowly have their blood drain to their head. It's a horrible way to die, but it's easier than hacking and slashing somebody apart with a knife.

I'm so tired that I'm walking with my eyes halfway closed. I fall a couple of times, and on the last fall I let myself rest for a couple of minutes. The dirt stains the side of my face, and with each second I know that I should move. My heart slows down, and my breathing barely exists. I'm dying. I made it through the Cornucopia with everything I need to survive and now I'm going to die thirsty. I would rather take a spear the the head than die this way.

It's very uncomfortable. Laying on the ground with my insides burning up, while my head pounds against my skull rapidly. I sleep now, letting my conscious slip away.

"I'm sorry, Katniss." I whisper. And then the world goes black, and I know that I'm gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** _I'm glad so many people are loving this story! It's really fun to write. Just as a side note, I've done archery for almost 8 years, and I've also gone hunting a couple of times, which is why I was really interested in The Hunger Games.I wanted to make sure I captured Gale's snares correctly, so I've also been looking up and trying a couple of them just as an experiment. Of course, trapping is illegal, so I don't know how well they work xD. But I tried to get a little more on the hunting because I feel like Suzanne Collins skipped out on it.. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Please like/follow/favorite and review! I love hearing what you guys think of the story so far! _

Chapter 11

I hear the cannon go off, and for a minute I'm confused. I slowly open my eyes. The short grass is illuminated by the setting sun, and the dry dirt tickles the inside of my nose. My backpack is glued to my back with sweat, and my bow is clamped in my hand. How am I not dead? I should be dead.

My head is still pounding, and my mouth is a desert, but for some reason I feel like I can walk again. I'm shocked that another tribute hasn't found me yet.

I get to my feet using my bow as support and slowly, carefully creep along the trail. I feel like I've made a mistake going this way. I should have run into some sort of stream by now, or at least crossed a small pond.

The air is chilly. I pull my hood over my head and attempt to warm my icy nose by stuffing my face into my chest.

Who's cannon went off? How many other deaths have there been today? The careers have to be hunting the rest of us down by now, and they've probably found a couple of other tributes. I wonder about Sara. Where is she now? How has she made it this long?

Soon, the terrain changes unexpectedly. There's more rocks, and without warning the game trail suddenly disappears. I curse under my breath and kick away a nearby stick. Suddenly I remember the last of the water I have, and I take it out eagerly and sip on it. It isn't much, but it'll be enough to give me energy for another hour. The squirrel is still attached to my hip, and I debate whether or not I should skin it now, or wait.

I decide against eating and wander down hill again.

Soon, the sun is setting. I'm too woozy to climb a tree safely, so I walk over to a small patch of bushes and conceal myself in them, loading my bow and watching the woods for predators.

"C'mon Haymitch," I beg, "send me some water!" I sit for a second, actually believing that I would get a gift this early in the games. I probably don't have a single sponsor! How could my mentor leave me to die like this? I knife to the back is one thing, but I could just sit here and slowly dry up for probably another day, too weak to move. I'd rather be eaten alive by a wolf than dry up like a fish out of water.

The anthem is playing again, signaling the end of the second day of the Games. Theres only one death today- the fourteen year old from District 11 appears in the sky. I saw him in training, he was friendly with the girl from his district. I almost feel bad, but I quickly remember that each cannon means one step closer to home.

I drift off to sleep shivering. The temperature is quickly dropping and the socks and boots I have do little to keep my toes warm. Thankfully, the jacket keeps my organs warm enough to function until dawn.

I wake up feeling awful. After I get up to stretch, I find out that my urine is almost black. I could drink it, but the idea makes me want to throw up. My stomach growls as I force myself to keep moving. I keep tripping over everything. Rocks, twigs, branches and my own two feet keep getting in my path.

How could I still be alive? It's been days since I've had enough water to drink. I can feel my stomach start to dry up now, and my lungs are like dry furnaces. I can't help but suck on my thumb. It offers a little wetness to my mouth and tricks my mind into thinking that I'm eating.

The minutes tick by, and soon I can't keep my heavy breathing under control.

My eyes catch something move. Something large. I load my bow and pull the string back halfway. I'm too weak to get a full draw, so hopefully the bow will do enough damage to whatever is in front of me. I can see it now, moving in the bush, probably nibbling on something.

Hazily, I round one of the trees to find a large elk, eyes locked on me. Every bit of fear imaginable runs through me. These aren't like the deer Katniss and I have taken down. This elk could kill me with one buck of its antlers, or kick with its back feet. I can't help but back away slowly, but as I move the creature does nothing but stare at me. Hesitantly, I raise my bow and draw the arrow back all the way. I can make the shot. Every ounce of game here is precious, especially because there's so many people hunting in the same area now. It's small, black eyes are watching me curiously, like a child watching a science experiment, waiting patiently. It's ears raise, but I'm quiet that he puts them back down. My hand is shaking now, and my fingers are slipping from the bowstring.

Before I can release my arrow, the elk moves, and runs away.

"Damn it!" I scream, jogging after the animal. I wasn't sure why, but I felt like I had to take him down. The only deer that I've been able to take down was with Katniss, and I feel like I have something to prove to everybody. Head pounding, hands trembling, I jump over a fallen tree and rip the string back. The elk continues to run away from me, so I sprint after it. I have to get close enough to shoot. Branches scrape against my arms and face, but I ignore the pain and run after the game. I trip over another branch and slam into a large boulder. I can see the elk. It flawlessly leaps over a group of small saplings and back toward me.

It doesn't see me until I shoot an arrow right at it's head. Of course, with my dizziness, the arrow misses and slams into a tree, and the elk changes direction. Angrily, I run after the deer again, sprinting around the other side of the boulder after the deer.

Suddenly the ground slips from my feet, and I'm falling. I let out a cry of fear as I spin in circles down the cliff toward the ground. _This is it. This is where I die. _My shoulder clips something sharp and I continue to freefall. I take one last breath before I make contact with the ground.

There's a deafening slapping noise and I can't breath. I think I just heard my spine snap in half. My entire body is suddenly frozen and I can't draw in any air even though I try. Is this what death feels like? I open my eyes, but I can't keep them open for very long because of the painful sting. I've landed in water! I can tell that the liquid is moving, so I paddle myself upward and hold my breath. Somehow, I manage to hold onto my precious bow and keep all my arrows in their quiver. It takes me forever to reach the surface, but when I do, I take such a big breath that I can feel my lungs expand beyond comfort. My hands, feet and face are numb from how cold the river is, but I keep swimming toward the shore.

My soaked boots are scraping the rocks now, and I pull myself onto the shore and lay on it tiredly. It's taken me two days to find a water source, and all along I've been following a faulty trail. I laugh hysterically, literally drag myself over to the water and drink straight from the river. It's dangerous to drink straight from water like that, but I don't have a choice. If I wait any longer I'll probably die. I lay along the bank for a long time, shivering as I gulp down water. I can't control myself anymore. I drink so much that my stomach lurches and my bladder fills up beyond capacity. Finally, I slow down and remember the deer.

It ran exactly where I fell, so was it even real? Did my dehydration cause me to see the elk even though it wasn't really there? I missed my shot. The arrow slammed into the tree. I could fetch it and have fourteen again, but I decide to let myself rest.

This area of the woods is better for hunting. Flat ground, lots of pines but not many leaves. Plenty of places to set snares and lots of cover for hunting. There's not a lot of good climbing trees, but I could always make a trip back up the cliff before night falls. I fill up my water bottle and attempt to start a fire. The sticks are nice and dry unlike in 12, so it only takes me an hour to get the wood to ignite. The careers won't be able to see the smoke in the air, but sitting on the water is dangerous. If this is the only water source in the entire arena, there's guaranteed to be a fight along the shore. They'll do anything to draw tributes together. I take my boots, jacket and shirt off, wring them out and let them dry on a tree. I let my boots sit next to a fire so that they'll dry a little faster.

Thankfully, my headache is gone and I almost feel normal. My lips are still chapped, but I peel off the old, try skin as I hydrate myself. As noon rolls around, I skin the squirrel and take out the entrails, throwing them into the river. I cook the rodent of my fire and eat it. I'm still hungry, so I walk over the the pine and go to work on the bark with my knife. The outer bark isn't any good, but the inner is perfect for eating. It's a little hard to choke down, but I manage to fill myself up and get completely hydrated before my clothes dry.

I didn't bother taking my pants off. I did my best to wring them out without revealing myself to the entire nation. Everything except for my pants and underwear are dry, so I sit by the fire for a little longer before stomping the flames out and covering the ashes with sand and water. My boot prints will wash off with the river water, so the only tracks I have to worry about is the ones I left on the game trail.

Just as I'm about to head out, a cannon fires loudly through the air. I can't help but wonder if a tribute wandered into my trap. Hopefully it was Horace. I go through all my stuff again. Nothing was lost in my tumble down the cliff except for the arrow that I shot at the elk. I could live with thirteen arrows. Back home, there's only seven arrows in my quiver, so I would just have to be careful not to waste anymore of them.

After urinating, I decide to set two twitch up snares on a game trail and hunt around the area. It proves rewarding. I get a squirrel and two rabbits with my bow but my snares come up empty. I tie the game to my hip and continue moving. If I stay in the same place, the Gamemakers will get bored of me and I'll have to fight off some sort of muttation. That's a road I'm not going to travel on.

One year, a female tribute from District 4 stayed in the same place for three days straight. She had gotten enough supplies and was living off of them. When there was only three tributes left in the game, a group of large, rabid rats came and tore up her flesh in her sleep. She got away, but died because of disease two days later.

The thought of being torn apart by muttations scares me, so I make sure to play the Game and keep moving.

I go so far into the woods that I run into pond. The trees surround the water and the sunlight illuminates the center of the water. There's game trails everywhere and fish jump freely from the water, splashing around the pond carelessly. I set one snare for the land animals and rig another to catch a fish. Just as I throw my bait into the water, my eye catches a large, white flower growing out of the water. Curiously, I go over and rip it from its roots. The flower is easily recognizable. There's three, large white petals with maroon near the center, and a bright yellow in the middle of the blossom, all growing on a thick green stem bearing leaves that look like arrowheads.

It's the root that Katniss was named after.


	12. Chapter 12

_**An:**__Thanks for being so patient with me! I know it took a while to update but it was a trick and long chapter to write... I'll try to update sooner! Please like/follow! And I love the positive reviews this story is getting! Thanks to all of you guys who are supporting me and his story! Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 12

It's a trick from the Gamemakers. The whole nation knows about my love for Katniss, so to twist up my head they sent her flower for me. No doubt that Caesar is explaining the whole situation right now. I can't help but tug gently on the petals, and rub the arrowhead-shaped leaves between my fingers.

The first time that I had ever seen this flower was the day Katniss dragged me through the woods and to the lake. I could tell that the lake meant a lot to her. Every time her eyes made contact with the glistening water, or she touched one of the lilies her face lit up. It wasn't very often that I got to see Katniss smile that bright.

We sat on the rocks for hours. She told me stories of how her father took her here and taught her how to swim, and the times they would slide on the ice during winter. I wanted to have some memory of my father like that, but he spent most of his time working to feed all of us.

When the sun was high in the air, and a breeze blew my hair around she jumped into the water and picked one of the flowers. Her pant bottoms were soaked as she came back onto the rocks, fixing her braid. "This," she said proudly, plopping down next to me, "is the flower that my father named me after." Katniss handed me the plant with a large smile.

"Well," I said, smile creeping across my face, "I can see the resemblance."

She rolled her head back in laughter and shook her head.

"It's beautiful." I commented, giving her a smile. My gaze was met by the side of her face. She looked out onto the lake, her mind obviously roaming somewhere else.

It seemed like yesterday, but both of us were only kids then.

A branch snapped somewhere to my right and I'm suddenly brought back to the present. I grab my bow and load it with an arrow. For a long while, I search around the pond for any signs of danger, but there isn't any predator for me to shoot. I remind myself that it isn't smart to stay in one place and start walking away from the water.

I take the time to cut off a little wire and tie Katniss' flower to the strap of my backpack. It's secure, and should last a couple of days before it withers and breaks apart. If the audience knows the significance behind the plant, then they'll understand why I took the time to pick it. Maybe my little act of love will get me a few more sponsors.

I find myself in a very unfamiliar section of the trees. Of course, all the trees and plants are the same, but the land is different. The softer ground will make for easier hunting and the lack of dried leaves will allow me to track game and keep quiet with ease. Already, I find some strange tracks deep in the mud. I can't tell exactly what the animal is, but I know that it's fat from the depth its tracks left.

The bare trees wave in the small wind as I follow the trail, keeping an eye and ear out for anything else I can shoot. A couple large, white birds dart out from branches, but I can't raise my bow fast enough to take one of them out. As an hour passes by, the temperature seems to drop faster than the sun. It's still early afternoon, but it feels like one of the cooler nights that we get at home. Soon, I find myself heating my hands with my breath.

I would use the gloves in my bag, but I can't shoot very well with any sort of material covering my hand. It would be smarter just to let my hands get a little chilly and keep my archery skill sharp.

Now that I have a lot of water, hunting is a lot easier. I keep myself hydrated as I stalk through the woods, inspecting the trees and foliage for any sort of game.

Just as I'm about to sit down and take a break, there's a loud, blood curdling scream and the sound of scuffling.

_That's too close. _

Without hesitation, I scramble up one of the thicker trees and settle myself in one of the branches, loading my bow and searching for the threat. I pull the string back as another yell comes from the same tribute. It's definitely a male, probably around thirteen or fourteen. After a minute of silence, a cannon goes off, signaling the tribute's death.

From what I heard, it was a one way fight. I can imagine Horace stalking another tribute and snapping their neck while they're distracted. The thought makes my stomach churn. My snares aren't far from here. If Horace sees them, he'lll know that I've stopped her to hunt, and I'll run into trouble.

I listen for the attacker, expecting them to be loud as they ran from the scene, but their footsteps are so faint that I can't tell what direction they've gone in. I hear a backpack unzip, a lifeless body flip multiple times, and the backpack zip once again.

For the thousandth time, I'm glad that I can walk without making any noise. The fight was close, and if I hadn't escaped into my tree I might have been next.

The assailant walks away, and I catch a glimpse of a flash of steel from some sort of weapon. After a couple of minutes, I decide the area is safe and descend my tree. As I climb down, I turn my head in all directions to check the coast is clear. As I suspected, there's no threat anywhere to be found, so I let go of the tree branch and fall to the earth.

I turn to run, but my curiosity is burning. Who's lying dead on the ground? Could it be Ash? No, he couldn't be taken down quick and easy like that, he's too good with hand to hand combat. I jog over to the scene. I see the body, along with a lot of blood. Whatever supplies the victim carried had been picked clean, and his jacket had been stripped off his body too.

I flip the young man over, surveying his face. He has short dark hair, light skin, and brown eyes that are still wide open. There's something weird about looking into the eyes of a deceased person, so out of respect and my own comfort I close the small lids. I can't pin the district this boy is from.

My eye catches something. There's a hole- about the size of two of my fingers- right in the side of his throat. The assailant had gotten close enough to stab him in the neck. I can tell its not a knife wound, its too circular to be a knife, so spear maybe? I get up and look at the tracks left behind.

There's one pair of boot prints in the dirt and then a scuffle. There's blood spilled around the small area of shifted dirt. In the bushes, I find another set of prints. These ones are smaller, but I can easily pick them out. Whoever had done the killing had put a lot of time and effort into not being seen.

WIth a lot of pity, I turn away from the body and head back to the pond.

When I reach a certain distance, a hovercraft appears in the sky and retrieves the body. It takes a while for the birds to get noisy again, and by the time they're singing I'm at the pond.

My fishing snare has trapped a nice trout, but the other one I set is still empty. The fish isn't anything comparable to the ones I catch at home, but it will make a nice dinner. After resetting the fishing snare, I take my game and start a fire, making sure to keep it small. I've never been very experienced with gutting fish, but I know that it isn't much different from the rabbits and squirrels that I've cleaned.

It's the same for all game. Remove the insides, ligaments and any outside skin. I go to work on my fish with my knife, making sure to keep the slimy creature off the ground. The belly is easily split with little effort, but removing the insides is going to be a lot harder than I thought. I cut the tail and head off, then sever the colon near the end of the fish. With a horrible, slick, mushy sound, the guts, heart, liver and stomach of the fish all pour out onto the ground. I have to sever something else for the rest to fall out, but the inside looks clean enough to me. I'm not sure if I can eat this fish with the skin on it, or I have to take the outer skin off to cook it. I decide to skin it and throw the outer, slimy brown and black spotted skin and roast my fish over the fire with a stick.

As the outer, pink skin of my dinner slowly charrs, I think about how well I'm doing so far. I've been able to avoid all combat except for at the Cornucopia, and other than my dehydration on the first couple of days, I'm pretty healthy. I think that I've eaten more in my time in the Games than I have at home. Of course, at home I'm not being hunted by other people, but here I don't have to split any of the game that I bag with anybody else. It's one of the reasons that I've wanted to run away with my family and Katniss so many times. There would be plenty of game for all of us further out, and we wouldn't have to trade for supplies.

I wonder how Katniss is holding up. She's having to split the game she gets between two families and still trade for supplies. Sometimes there's not enough for all of us even with the two of us hunting all day. I stare at the flower, still securely strapped to my backpack and think about home.

When my dinner finishes cooking, I let it cool off and force feed myself. The fish is as gross as it smells and feels. It tastes like fried plastic! I drink my entire water bottle before finishing the unappetizing food.

As night falls, I stomp out my fire and make a trip to the river to refill my water bottle. The temperature is so low that I can easily see my breath, so I sling my bow over my torso and stuff my hands in my pockets. I still don't want to use the gloves. If Horace comes crashing out of the bushes, I'll need to be able to shoot, and quick.

The river is running a little faster than it was earlier, so I stay clear of any deep water as I climb over the rocks and dip the bottle in. The last thing I want to do is fall in again, and risk getting hypothermia. I fill my bottle to the top and spoon water into my mouth with my hands. I still feel uncomfortable with drinking water straight from the source, but I don't have any way to purify it.

Just as the final ray of sunlight leaves the earth, and I'm halfway into my tree, the anthem starts playing. I quickly settle on a branch to see the tribute who died. His picture is shown with a large, blue 8 underneath it, then the anthem finishes and the sky goes dark again. Only one death? If the careers are hunting us, they're doing a really bad job this year. Normally, over half of the tributes are gone in the first couple days, but these games are moving a lot slower than the previous years.

The Gamemakers don't like slow. I know that tomorrow, there is going to be multiple tribute deaths to keep the audience interested. I flip my hood up, tuck my nose in my jacket and shove my hands inside my coat. With the dropping temperature, my bones quickly become stiff and I drift off into a very chilled sleep.

The sun rises and I'm up in an instant. It's still pretty early, so I keep my eyes open and stretch in my tree. After a half hour, the sun's rays are falling on my shoulder, heating my back and arms. It's enough to wake me up, so I sling on my backpack and return to the earth.

My stomach is grumbling as my feet touch the cool ground, so I dive into my bag and get the leftover, cold rabbit that I didn't eat yesterday and nibble on one of the legs. I also drink half of my water bottle and go to the bathroom while I can. Urinating in hunting ground causes the game to grow suspicious, so I cover the area with lots of pine needles, dirt and broken leaves.

My entire body is a block of ice. The very tip of my nose and my toes are numb, and my hands are redder than they usually are. I gather a couple of dry sticks and start a fire. It takes a while, but soon I have a flame large enough to heat me without giving away my position.

For about fifteen minutes, I warm myself next to the fire, rubbing my hands together and sticking them above the flames. When I'm warm enough, I get up, stop out my fire and start walking back toward the pond.

I have some trouble finding it, but eventually I come to it. My fishing snare is still set, so I disable it and tuck the leftover wire and rope in my bag for later. My ground snare caught a squirrel, so I eat the one that's in my backpack and tie the new one to my hip.

I know that I have to move. There hasn't been a good fight since the cornucopia, and the Gamemakers are going to do whatever it takes to give the audience a good show. I should make a trip back up the cliff and retrieve the arrow I shot at the deer I was hallucinating, so I head back to the river.

There's constant breaks of twigs and sticks as I move around. I can't see what's causing it, probably just the squirrels again. As another stick snaps to my left, I remember the Tribute from 8, and how he was stabbed in the throat with a spear.

My hand flies to my shoulder, selects an arrow and secures it onto the string in one swift motion. The string is drawn and my aim is set in the direction of all the noise, but no threat appears anywhere. Cautiously, I round one of the trees and aim toward every possible place to hide. I search the trees, but the limbs are as bare as ever, so I let my aim drop to the ground and continue walking.

After a couple of minutes of constantly checking over my shoulder, another bush russells, and without hesitation I break into a full speed sprint, hopping over logs and bushes that meet my path.

I know that something is pursuing me, but I can't tell what from all the wind in my ear. I don't stop running until I reach the river. The water is still raging, and I can't cross here to get to the other side. With panic, I crouch behind a rock and draw my bow string. My arrow is poised to fly, but as the seconds tick by, no threat reveals itself. My arm quickly tires and I have to cancel my shot, so I stay behind my rock and search for my opponent.

I know that something was after me, but I couldn't tell what. As far as I know, that was the Capitol's muttation stalking me, waiting for the right time to strike.

I spend a while hiding, but I gain confidence and start walking downstream. The cliff will be a challenge to climb, but I'm more worried about being swept away by the strong currents of the water.

It seems like forever, but I finally come across a place that is calm enough for me to cross. Fish dart out from under rocks as I stumble across the river, and as I quickly realize that this cliff won't be so easily conquered. It's literally straight up, with barely any roots or rocks to grab ahold of. If I fall here, there won't be any deep water to save me. I'll land straight on my back on the sharp rocks under the shallow water. If I don't die from the fall, I'll surely be knocked out, and then drown under the water.

There's no reason not to climb. I know that I can make it and if I stay down here I'll be killed off by the Gamemakers. I sling my silver bow over my body and start climbing. As I get off the ground, I realize how fragile the roots are and how easily the rocks unearth themselves from my weight. My backpack isn't helping either. It's extra weight proves to be challenging by making my weight a little heavier.

It takes some time, but I reach the top of the cliff and pull myself over. Now there's a layer of sweat on my face and my backpack clings to my shoulders. I allow myself a couple minutes of rest, sipping some of my water and eating a little bit of leftover rabbit. When I feel up to it, I stalk along the rocky path to my left.

I pick out the area where I slipped and fell easily, the ground still has my boot prints and the shift in the dirt where I lost my footing. Carefully, I look down the large cliff and down at the raging water. It's a long way down, longer than what I climbed up, and I'm lucky that the water was deep enough to protect me from the rocks.

These woods are a little vague to me, mainly because I was so dehydrated when I stumbled through them, but I know that the arrow I fired is somewhere in this area. I retrace my steps and imagine the deer running through the trees. The memory is so vague that I give up entirely and just track the prints that I left behind. Suddenly I see the long silver weapon protruding from a slim tree with hard bark and run to retrieve it. It takes some effort, but I eventually wiggle the arrow free and overlook it for damage. The tip is a little dull, but it won't get in the way of penetrating whatever I'm shooting at. Now I have fourteen arrows again, and the only one I'm missing is the one I fired at Horace at the start of the games.

For a minute I consider making a trip back to the horn, but I quickly dismiss the thought. I turn and follow the prints that I left behind a couple days ago. I don't know where I'm going, but hopefully I find a new water source.

The woods are quiet today, and I can't seem to find a single animal to take out with my bow. The sun shines through the trees, but it only provides a little warmth to me. I can still see my breath as I exhale heavily.

My ears catch a small noise ringing through the trees. I listen again, turning my head in the direction the sound came in. After a couple of seconds, I hear something again. A vigorous grunt and a clash of steel. There's a fight nearby.

How are all the tributes as far out as I am? Suddenly I feel vulnerable, I quickly speed walk away from all the noise. Then there's a cannon

My ears barely pick up the thudding behind me.

I don't hesitate to arm myself with an arrow and draw the string. Horace is sprinting toward me, forty yards from my position. He has a spear in one hand, sword in the other, a backpack slung over his shoulders and a couple knives dangling from his belt. I don't let my fingers loosen around the string until he gets close enough for me to hit.

Just as I'm about to let my arrow fly into his chest, I see the figure behind him. It's the girl that was trying to shoot the bow in training. She's got more knives than I do arrows, and I know that she can use them with deadly accuracy.

"Not escaping this time!" Horace threatens, jumping over a log. He gets close enough, so I quickly let the string fall out of my fingers and send the arrow at his chest. He barely gets out of the way, and my arrow cuts the side of his upper arm, causing his jacket to rip and stain with blood. Instantly, I'm reloaded and pointing my second arrow at him. My second shot isn't as smooth as the other, so it leaves my bow inaccurately. Horace is smart enough to sprawl out on the forest floor, and my arrow plunges into his backpack.

I can't use all my arrows attempting to kill him. He'll just keep dodging until I run out of ammo, so I turn and do what I do best.

Run.

Adrenaline is pumping so hard that I can barely hear the knife whistle by my head. The blade flies a foot from my head and sticks into a tree with a _thunk_. I quickly change directions, dart behind trees and over bushes. There's so many sticks hitting my face that I can feel blood starting to pour from my cheeks.

Another knife. Another close call. This time I barely dodge the weapon. They're close to me now, yelling threats as they follow my trail. I want to get into a tree, but I know that the girl's knife will get me before I can get high enough. Maybe I could jump off the cliff and into the river again? But there's no guarantee that I'll land safely.

I can feel myself starting to tire, and my stomach cramps. The area is still familiar, I can remember that I was hunting here.

For a couple minutes, I sprint, and I start to slowly make distance between Horace and me. I crash through bushes and around another tree.

Suddenly, my foot gets caught on something, and I lose my footing and fall on my face. Then the leaves and rocks drag against my face. Has Horace got a hold of my foot? Dragging me off like a wolf so he can kill me?

My backpack slips off my shoulders, and all of my arrows fall out of my quiver. I look around in confusion. The ground is blue, my hair is sticking straight up, my jacket is bunched on my torso and my arms dangle toward the brown earth. I know exactly what happened.

I've caught myself in the snare I set for Horace.


	13. Chapter 13

_**AN:**__I'm really glad hat you guys are liking this story! the last chapter I left at a cliff hanger (sorry) but I'm hoping that this one is as good as the last. PLEASE like/favorite/ review! I love hearing from you guys so don't be shy with that comment button! :) hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 13

"So how long have you been going out here?" I ask, making a weak attempt at small talk. It had been a month since I had run into Katniss, and slowly we had begun to trust each other. Lately, she had been teaching me the different plants and animals that lived in the woods, and in return I was teacher the basics of snaring. She was still rusty with knot tying, but she understood the basics.

"My father took me out here a couple of years ago," she slid around one of the trees, "that was before he died." I could see the sadness in her eyes, but she continued to walk.

I struggled to keep up with her quick pace, "He taught you to shoot?" I asked.

"Yeah," she sighed, "good thing too, my family probably would have starved by now."

We walked through the forest for about ten minutes before stumbling along one of our snares, a fat rabbit dangling three feet off the ground by one foot. "Look at that!" I cheer, hitting Katniss' shoulder gently, "that's your snare."

As long as it had taken, this was her first snare that had gotten something. I could see the glee in her expression as she hopped over a log and grabbed the deceased game. She pursed her lips together.

"Kinda sad." she whispered, loosening the noose.

"Why? It's us or them." I argue.

"Well it's just," she stared at me, "just seems like a horrible way to die. I'd rather get shot with an arrow."

As cruel as it was, snaring provided food. The game dies by the blood rushing to its head, or being stung up so long that it starves to death. I didn't care much though, as long as my stomach had something to eat I didn't care where the food came from.

The memory plays back in my mind. Right now, it's rather ironic, because now I know what the countless rabbits and squirrels were thinking while they were caught in my traps. My backpack is on the forest floor and all of my arrows have fallen out of my quiver and are now laying next to my silver bow.

There's two careers chasing me, and I have no way to protect myself from their sharp blades and deadly fists. Horace will kill me slowly, probably slit my throat and let me hang in my own snare until I die from blood loss.

I look around quickly, fumbling for my knife that is still strapped to my belt loop. I rip a hole in my pants in the process, but I manage to free the blade.

I know that Horace is getting close now, and if I don't act fast I'll surely die. All I have to do is cut the rope that I'm hanging by, collect my things and continue running. I make a failed attempt at curling my torso to reach the wire, I don't have the abdominal strength to keep myself up like that. My head starts to get woozy, and I know that the blood is starting to fill my brain.

Forgetting my knife, I stretch my arms as far as I can toward the ground. My fingers are millimeters from an arrow, and as I stretch more, I can feel its smooth surface. I push myself down, and grab ahold of one of the projectiles. My breathing is so loud that I barely hear Horace's footsteps anymore, but as I can see him through the bushes as I try to cut the wire with my arrow, using its length as an advantage.

With a loud snap, the wire splits in half and I plummet to the ground. My back meets the rough edge of my bow and my knee barely misses the deadly point of my arrow. I'm so dizzy that I almost take off without grabbing my supplies. I scoop up the remaining arrows and shove them into my quiver, then sling on my backpack and grab my bow. The careers crash through the bushes now, and I load my bow. The girl is the first to appear, and her knife barely misses my head as I prepare my arrow for flight.

The shot I take is weak, but my arrow flies through the girls calf in a bloody mess. She's on the ground now, too weak to throw a knife. While I can, I run up to her and rip the arrow from her leg. The blood and tendons that pour from her are disgusting, and I force myself not to stop to throw up.

For some reason, I can't load my bow to finish this poor girl off, and I completely lose my chance when Horace crashes through the bushes. I'm too slow to put an arrow in him, and he tackles me once again, throwing my bow out of my reach.

Thankfully, I've incapacitated the other career, so she screams and cries over her leg instead of assisting Horace.

We tumble down the hill, both of us clinging to each other, and my shoulder hits a tree. The blow is enough to knock the wind out of me, but Horace's grip keeps me close to him as we flip over the dirt again and again. When we stop, I punch him in the jaw and scramble away from him. He's lunging for me again, but I dodge his attack and attempt to run back up the hill. Without my bow, my arrows are useless.

I feel strong hands grab my shoulders and throw me to the earth. For a minute I'm at a loss of what to do, but then I remember my knife. Horace lost his weapons in our fall, so I have a slight advantage over him right now. I free the blade and slice his jacket open, but while I'm open his head dives into my stomach, and he's lifting me off the ground.

With a loud grunt of effort, he slams me into the earth. I hear my spine practically snap in half, and now there's a loud ringing in my ear. My knife is gone, but I catch the gleam of the arrow that I sent into his backpack. I reach for it, and I receive a hard blow to my nose. I'm completely pinned and dazed, and Horace uses this opportunity to hit me again and again. Each blow causes me to get a little woozier, and I wonder if this is how I die in the arena.

Four, five, six hits later, he's weak, and I wiggle my arm free and rip the arrow from the side of his backpack and plunge it into his thigh. A scream comes from him, and I manage to have the strength to kick him off. Blood pours from my face, my nose, mouth and cheeks are bleeding so much that I leave a trail as I stumble up the hill.

Horace is rolling around in pain, ripping my arrow from his leg. Climbing this hill takes so much effort that I'm seeing stars, but I do get away from my opponent and see my bow lying in the pine needles.

I fall as I retrieve it, but now I'm loaded and ready to shoot. I see the girl, still grabbing her calf and rocking back and forth, whimpers escaping her. I'm so angry that I don't even hesitate to pull the string of my bow back under my chin and aim for her forehead. A look a fear floods her face just as I release the string. The arrow flies flawlessly through the air and plunges into the girl's eye socket. After her last breath escapes her lungs, she falls over lifelessly and her cannon rings through the air.

Horace screams in anger behind me, and his spear plunges deep into the ground at my feet. He has his weapons now, and I know that I have to run, so I rip the arrow from the girl's head and steal her bag, along with a couple of her knives. Half of my body is covered in blood, and now my weapons also have a layer of scarlet covering the shining silver.

Horace is now a lot slower with his leg wound, so I escape quickly.

There's so much blood flowing from my face that half of my vision is now black. Every sign of life has left this section of the forest, so I'm left alone to run from my predators. I'm panting harder than a dog and falling more times than a toddler learning to walk. Everytime I pick myself up I seem to forget how to run straight.

My arrows rattle in my quiver, and I know that I've lost a couple in the battle. Eventually, I slow down, and count my arrows as I walk. I have twelve left. I lost one trying to shoot at Horace and the other I plunged into his leg.

I alternate between jogging and walking for about an hour, my face leaving an obvious trail of blood on the pine needles. The ground seems to be slippery as I stumble along the forest, and when I fall once again I'm too weak to pull myself back up.

Another cannon goes off, and I wonder if Horace decided to finish himself off. No, he's got too much hatred for me to commit suicide. But I still hope that somehow he found death. I scoot against a tree, wincing and grunting in pain as I try to move.

For a while, I attempt to staunch my bleeding with my jacket, but quickly I realize that Horace has given me wounds that bleed like a river, and there's no stopping it. I pour a little bit of my water over my face, and the pain is so unbearable that I almost scream. The bleeding doesn't stop, but I manage to make it bleed less. I've lost feeling in my face and legs, and I know that I've lost too much blood. As far as I know, I'm going to die. My vision slowly drowns out in darkness.

I'm laying flat on my back, eyes closed, grass tickling my ears and neck.

"Wake up." The voice is familiar, but I can't put a name to it. "Gale! Get up!" My eyes refuse to open, and I feel something clench to my shirt and shake me awake.

Instantly, I'm up. My hand flies back to my shoulder, hungry for an arrow, but it only finds air to grab onto.

"You going to shoot me?" she asks, crossing her arms. My vision sharpens and I recognize the girl in front of me. Her eyes seem to sparkle in the sun, her hair blends in with the tree bark and her skin is slightly tanned from being outside so much.

"Katniss?" I whisper. I'm completely bewildered. I touch my face, but my coarse fingers don't find the wounds that I'm searching for. She smiles and sits on the hard ground next to me.

We're not in the games, but in the meadow. The fence of District 12 is behind us, and I look out onto the edge of the woods. I know it's not real.

"Am I dead?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.

"Do you want to be?" she interrogates, picking off a blade of grass and folding it between her fingers. For a second I'm confused, because it's not like to talk about things like this.

"Will I get to see you if I die?"

She shrugs, and purses her lips. Her hair isn't in it's normal braid, it's crimped and wavy all the way down to the middle of her back. She's dressed in the tribute outfits that I was sent into the games with, and there's a cut on her face under her eye.

"Why'd you do it?" she asks, a tear running down her face.

"What do you-" Suddenly, her face transforms, and I know that it's no longer Katniss. She's thinner, her eyes turn a completely different color and her hair shortens. Her skin gets a few shades lighter. A large hole opens in her leg and pours blood.

I turn to run, but I'm instantly taken down and pinned to the ground. It's the girl that I shot in the leg with an arrow. She's on top of me now, a long knife in her hand.

"Why'd you kill me?" she screams, stabbing me in the upper chest with the knife.

I can't move, and the pain is so excruciating that I want to die just so it's over, but she doesn't finish me off. She continues to stab at me until my bones can be seen through the grotesque mess of flesh and blood. With a loud grunt, she takes her knife and stabs me through my eye.

I wake up screaming, tears running down my face, burning the wounds that cover my face. My hands are trembling and my throat is burning with dryness. The sun is barely setting over the trees and the air is freezing.

For the first time, it hits me. I killed somebody.

I took somebody's daughter from them today. She could have made it home to them, but I shot her through the eye and ended her life. Not only that, I let her suffer while I fought her teammate. She sat on the ground with a hole in her leg, crying out for the pain to stop. I imagine her face again, the spot that was once her eye now mushy and destroyed from the sharp point of my arrow. Every person from her district now hates me, and now all of District 2 will enjoy watching me die.

I cough, and a bunch of blood spews from my chapped lips. My bow is still in my hand, and the supplies that I stole from the battle are clamped between my legs.

I weakly unzip the zipper and look through the contents. I feel a little guilty while I do it, but she's dead, and I have a chance to make it out of this. She had a full bottle of water, gloves, sunglasses, a mirror, a sleeping bag and a bag of nuts. No first aid kit. I take out the mirror and look at my face in the glass. It's hard to see due to the little amount of sunlight left, but I can see that my top lip is swollen, and my entire face is almost a purple color.

How could human fists do something this traumatic? I can't see through my right eye, which will make shooting impossible. This will take weeks to heal without medical help, and the cuts on my face are at risk of getting infection.

Just as I finish stuffing her supplies into my bag, the anthem is playing. Thankfully, I can see the screen from my position, so I don't have to move at all.

Through the trees, I see the girl's face from 2 appear. That's the one I shot in the face with an arrow. I can't help but feel guilty about it. Right now, on live television, the Captiol is playing death recaps. Right now, all of Panem just rewatched me murder a girl.

The next to appear is the boy from 5, and to my surprise, the boy from 11 is also shown in the sky. I don't remember hearing three cannons go off today. There must have been another death while I was out. The anthem finishes playing and I'm left in complete darkness.

I eat half of the bag of nuts and drink some water. I shove the empty backpack into my bag and get up. As woozy as I am, I don't want to get into a tree, but if I stay on the ground, I'm more vulnerable.

It takes me twenty minutes just to climb, but in that short amount of time, I almost tumble out of the tree more times that I can count. The sun's completely gone and I'm settling into my tee. I take out the sleeping bag and slide into it, setting my bag and bow in another branch as I strap myself in with some rope. I make sure to secure myself well enough so that I don't roll out of the branch and fall to my death.

Within minutes, I'm falling asleep, still wincing at the pain my face is experiencing.

An obnoxiously loud squirrel running along the forest floor wakes me the next morning. When I try to open my eyes, only half of what I would normally see comes into view. As hard as I try, I can't open my eyes any further than this. I pat my face with my fingers, and volts of pain shoot through what used to be my skin.

I have to see what it looks like, so I reach into the bag and take out the mirror and inspect my features. I'm so shocked at the grotesque monster looking at me that I almost drop the mirror. My nose and cheeks have countless cuts and scratches on them, my lips are swollen- almost as big as my fingers- and what used to be my light skin is now a purple collection of swollen skin. If I had to make a comparison, I look like I've been stung by a group of bees and had purple and black paint thrown on the wounds.

From the minute I try to get up I know that I've lost too much blood to move around, so I stretch my arms and settle into my sleeping bag. Trying to move like this would be too dangerous anyway. I can't shoot my bow accurately with only half of my vision, and spotting other tributes and game would be impossible. And if my blood loss is really bad, I could pass out trying to descend from my tree.

There's no safe option, so I grab my backpack and prepare myself for a long day of rest. I might as well go through my supplies again, since I have nothing else to do. It's a little tricky to take inventory without actually taking anything out of my bag, but I come out with two pairs of gloves, two water bottles, a half eaten rabbit and squirrel, 3 knives, rope, wire, a raincoat, scissors, white yarn and some sort of metal rod.

I immediately notice that something is missing. I flip the bag over and over again, checking both the straps multiple times. Katniss' flower is gone. The stem is tied tightly to the strap, but the rest must have been lost in the fight. Angrily, I slam my bag down on my thighs and clench my teeth. The one thing that I could remember her by is now gone.

For some reason, I feel like the flower was some sort of shield for me in the arena. It reminded me of home, the rolling hills covered in trees beyond the fence, and the lake that Katniss and I swim in on hot summer days. But now it's gone.

I make it a priority to go back and cross the river so that I can pick another katniss from the pond. Hopefully, I won't be stuck in this tree for very long.

The sun peers through the barren branches and onto the forest floor. As I sit in the tree, countless rabbits and squirrels pass me without even noticing. I even see a group of geese fly overhead.

Thankfully, I'm high enough so that I won't be easily spotted from the ground, but I still worry about Horace wandering around to finish me off.

I make sure to eat and drink while I sit and do nothing. I finish the rest of my rabbit, and half of the greasy squirrel. That leaves me half a squirrel and half a bag of nuts. It isn't much, but I know how to be hungry, and if I need to, I'll go a day without drinking anything.

A couple of squirrels catch my attention in another tree. At first, it seems like they're racing up the tree, but then I notice that one is trying to get away from the other. I grin as they circle the tree, dodging each other and trying to predict where the other is going to go. This lasts for five minutes before they both start scratching and biting at each other.

Have the Gamemakers sent me something to keep me entertained? Smiling hurts, but I do it anyway.

Ten minutes pass, and one of the squirrels slips from the branch and tumbles twenty feet down to the earth. I fold my neck to look down as the squirrel hits the ground with a small thud. It doesn't die, but limps away and scrambles up another tree.

I'm laughing, and I have to force myself to stop.

There's a noise coming from somewhere. Ringing? No, they sound like bells. I can't place what the noise is coming from until a small, circular metal container floats down and lands on my lap.

Haymitch sent me a gift? Why now? Why couldn't it be a bottle of water on my first day? A million thoughts run through my head, but I work the container open and pull out its contents. It's a small black tube without label. I take the cap off and smell the gel that's inside. Definitely not food. Medicine!

I squeeze the gel out into my hand and rub my face with the cream. All of my pain is instantly soothed, and I feel a lot better than I did five minutes ago. I use half of the tube thoroughly coating my face, and then I let the sun dry the cream off for me. I go to put the tube in my backpack when I notice something else in the bottom of the gift container.

I reach in and pull the second gift out. I can tell from the minute I lay my hands on it that it's fake, but I still grin as I pull it out.

Haymitch has sent me Katniss' flower.

I pull the fake root to my chest and lean my head against the tree, thanking Haymitch for the gifts. I'm not quite sure which is better- medicine or the flower. I retie her flower onto the strap of my backpack using a little bit of white yarn, and I tug on it to make sure that it isn't going anywhere.

The rest of the day goes by really slow. There wasn't any deaths today. Hopefully, the Gamemakers will allow me to rest in my tree tomorrow, and not make me relocate in my condition. The forest settles down with the dropping temperature and I'm forced to put on my hood and stuff my nose into my chest to stay warm.

Every night seems to bring a lower temperature, and if it wasn't for the sleeping bag I looted of of the girl from 2, I'd be freezing. In the late hours, after the anthem plays, I regret ever firing the arrow the arrow to kill that girl. I know that it meant survival, but there's a huge difference between taking the lives of animals and humans. All it took was for me to release that string and she was gone.

If I hadn't have gotten caught in my own snare, I could have outrun both of them. To say the least, I probably made myself look like an idiot in front of all of Panem. Getting caught in somebody else's snare is one thing, but I caught in my own. Whatever sponsors that I had probably vanished the minute I stepped in that trap.

I shake off my regret and drift off to sleep, dreaming of home.


	14. Chapter 14

_**AN: **GINORMOUS shoutout to Absolutely Cullen for leaving the best review I've ever gotten! I'm loving all the positive feedback and follows this story is getting. The last chapter I tried to give you guys a lot of action... Most of this story has been a little slow, but I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. Like/follow/review! I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

Chapter 14

The sun burns hot in the sky, beating down on my shoulders and head as I walk through the Seam. It's late morning, and as usual, my stomach is roaring like an angry mountain lion. As I run through the Seam, eyes peer at me through cracked windows and holes in the houses. Tomorrow is reaping day, so it's no surprise that the District is so quiet.

Tomorrow, there's no way that I'll be able to trade with any of the Peacekeepers. There's too many unfamiliar faces, and there's even soldiers that come here from the other districts. If I trade with the wrong person, I'll be shot on sight.

I break into a steady jog, my boots kicking away small rocks and dirt as I pass the beaten houses.

After ten minutes, I reach the dam and cross over the top of it. The trickling water is lower than usual, so I can probably expect the same thing in the woods today. The meadow is quiet, and the fence as useless as ever, but when I slide through the opening and disappear into the woods, the silence is taken over by the noise of birds. After taking a minute to search around the forest, I retrieve my bow and arrows and continue through the trees.

I follow Katniss's usual trail. She always hunts the same area first thing. I can't track her, but I know her so well that it doesn't really matter. She's somewhere around here, probably stuffing her bag with a fat rabbit or squirrel right now.

My eyes catch the bright red of a strawberry bush nearby, so I stop and pick off the ripe fruit and put it in my bag. After three quarters of the fruit is gone, I continue through the trees, making my steps as quiet as I can.

I spot her through the trees, setting another snare on the game trail. Her hair is in it's usual braid, and her quiver is strapped on over her father's jacket. She hasn't seen me yet, so I duck behind a bush and wait for her to leave.

Eventually, she turns her back, loading her bow and walking away.I get up and stalk after her, holding my bag at my side so the contents don't rattle. I'm so quiet that she doesn't even hear me when I'm feet from her. Silence has always been a natural talent, but even when the fall leaves are littering the ground, I don't make any noise.

My lips stretch into an evil smile as I slip behind one of the trees and knock on the wood loudly. I can hear her feet shift and the faint noise of her drawing her bow back. Biting my lips, I stick my head out and pray that she doesn't release her arrow.

"Boo." I say, smiling.

"Really?" she lets her bow down and takes the arrow off the string, "I almost just shot you!" she walks briskly over to me and punches me in the shoulder. I rub the sore spot softly as I laugh.

"You wouldn't shoot me," I tease, "I'm too quick for your arrows anyway."

She crosses her arms, "_Really?" _I don't tease Katniss very often, but when I do it's hilarious. I mimic her and cross my arms, my bow almost hitting me in the side of my head.

"Oh!" I gasp, reaching into my bag. "I have a surprise. Picked it up from the Hob this morning." I can barely hold my smile as I slip the full size loaf of bread from my bag and wave it in her face.

"What?" she gasps, taking the bread and splitting it in half. The look of joy on her face is priceless, but I just smile as I take my half and chew on it softly. I can tell that it's a little old, but here in 12, any food is good. Even the treebark that I eat sometimes is something of a luxury. "This is _so _good." she says, her mouth full of half chewed bread.

I laugh, "C'mon." I say, heading toward the spot we usually sit.

"Christa is making us new bowstrings." Katniss comments, finishing the heel of her bread in one bite.

"For how much?" I ask. Christa could work wonders with string, wire and the yarn that she had, but every time I went to go get new wire for snares she charged me heavily. The last time I traded with her, I gave her two turkeys just for a couple yards of metallic wire.

"Free. Her family is starving, remember? No bowstring for us, no food for her." I could see her tense. Christa had just brought in a new member to the family, and their entire family was being drained from the baby. Christa took it the worst. She had her daughter all day while her husband was at work and her son was at school. The father is too worn out to really help around the house, so she's left with that too.

"I'll make sure to give her extra food." I say, feeling a little guilty that she isn't getting anything from the _trade. _

For a while, Katniss and I sit in the tall grass, not saying anything. The sun caused us both to sweat a little, but the cool summer breeze cooled me down as it rolled through the hills. I stared at the top of the trees for a long while before Katniss spoke again.

"I can't believe that tomorrow's reaping day," I don't respond, because I want to rant about how much I hate the Capitol, "I'm never having kids." she spits, wrinkling her face.

"I might. If I didn't live here." I say.

"But you do live here."

"But if I didn't." I say harshly. Pursing my lips. "One day," I pick a piece of grass from the ground and twist it around my fingers, "I'm going to marry a girl. And have kids. And they're going to hunt in the woods just like us." We make heavy eye contact with a lengthy period of silence.

"I can't see myself marrying anybody." she says honestly.

"I can," I brag, smiling widely, "I can picture it."

"Really? Who are you going to marry, Gale? Who's going to be the mother of your children?"

_You, _I want to whisper. _One day, you're going to see me more than as a friend. We'll have something great between us. We won't just be partners, but something more than that. _

My brain won't let me speak all these things though. Everytime I try, my mouth seems to close once again. _Tell her! _My brain screams at me.

_You! I'm in love with you Katniss Everdeen! Everyone sees it except you! _

"Someone." I mutter, putting my head down.

I know that I've lost my chance to tell her everything when a long silence replaces our conversation. Katniss and I have talked about the future before, but never about relationships, or kids, or one day buying a house to live in. How could she not tell that I have feelings for her? Isn't it painfully obvious?

The birds fly over our head as we sit in the grass, watching the bright sun disappear over the mountains. I watch a bird fly into a nest to feed its children, and a couple squirrels run throughout the tree tops.

"We should go." she whispers, getting to her feet.

"Okay," I breath, standing up and following her out of the woods.

The smell of District 12's trees are replaced with the barren ones in the arena. The sun isn't setting over beautiful mountains covered in trees, but rising just over the leafless arms that stretch out from the trunks. It's early enough for the game to get up and move around, the birds have started singing rather loudly already, and it's just a matter of time before the rabbits and squirrels get up to search for their breakfast.

My face isn't hurting like it was yesterday, and I have regained almost all of my vision. Good thing too, because both of my water bottles are nearly empty and I need some more food.

I stretch and unhook myself from the tree, stuffing the rope into my bag and taking out the mirror. My face is still a little puffy, but the wounds have started to heal and the purple is a little faded. My mouth still hangs open like a panting dog, and I wonder if Horace dislocated my jaw in the fight. Just in case, I take out the tube of medicine and dab a little more on the wounds.

My backpack is on my shoulders now, and I'm slowly climbing down the tree. The task takes me a while, since I've been inactive for a long time, but when I reach the ground I feel alive again.

The smell of the woods -even these ones- is refreshing. I'm fully rested and I think that Haymitch's medicine even helped me regain some of the blood that I lost. The only downside to rubbing my face with medicine and leaving it to soak into my skin is the dryness afterwards. I wrinkle my nose and half of my face moves with it. When I raise one of my eyebrows, the entire side of my face seems to follow it.

I need water, so I head the opposite direction of where I fought Horace and move down the hill. I know that there's a river somewhere down there, but hopefully I won't almost die of dehydration trying to find it. I'm so refreshed from my rest that I practically sprint through the woods without using all my energy. Hopefully, this area of the arena will lead me to a river without a steep cliff. The last thing I need is to impale myself on the sharp rocks in the shallow water.

My entire body seems to be on some sort of high. I feel like I can run forever without needing any water or food to keep me going. The wind blowing in my ears and hair keeps the sweat from collecting on my skin.

Never before have I ever been able to run this long in the woods. The combination of the hills and having to constantly change direction usually wears me out, but today I run without stopping.

Within an hour, I can hear the rushing water from a long ways away, so I follow the noise and locate the river. If I would have gone this way, I would never have almost died from dehydration or taken a frightening tumble off a cliff. The hill gradually sweeps down to flat ground, and as I near the bottom, I'm met with the most beautiful sight that I've ever seen before.

There's a ten foot tall waterfall pouring crystal clear water into a deep pond that is teeming with fish. The water is so clear that I can easily see the shape and color of the fish swimming deep down in the water. As the water plummets to the earth, it hits multiple rocks, sending mist and water to collect on my clothes and skin. Lilies float in the calm areas of the water. As I near toward the shore, I see the birds dipping their heads in to coat themselves in the cool liquid. They take flight as I get close, spraying me with water from their wings. A frog jumps into the deep pond and disappears completely. I can't help but smile at the sight. In 12, there's lots of areas that are beautiful, but I've been roaming around in those woods for so long that I've gotten used to the views. This waterfall is like nothing I've ever seen before.

I fill both my bottles to full capacity. For the first time, I notice the blood that coats my skin and hands. It's sticky, and honestly probably the grossest thing that I've ever had to wash off of myself, but the falls quickly diminish the scarlet red that coats my skin. I don't bother with my clothes, I can't risk taking everything off and washing it right now.

When I finish, I eat the rest of my rabbit and squirrel and start hunting in this area again. I stay close to the water, stalking in the bushes with my bow loaded, crouched down so that my prey won't see me. The raging water fades away and I'm left with the silence of the woods.

I wonder how far the other tributes are from me. Horace isn't that far away, but I managed to get quite a distance from him yesterday. I had to have caused a lot of damage by stabbing him with that arrow. He won't be able to chase after me like he did before. Ash is somewhere, probably staked out where nobody else would dare go. There's no guessing where Sara is. She never revealed any of her plans to me. The careers are most likely all grouped together somewhere. I can only imagine running into a camp with six people armed to the teeth with weapons.

Ten minutes pass and I spot the ducks swimming in a calm part of the river. I don't have much experience with preparing duck to eat, mainly because they take flight before I get the chance to shoot them. But I've shot a ton of birds, and skinned them no problem, so duck can't be that different. I would rather have turkey to shoot at. Their feathers make strong fletchings for arrows, their talons are long and sharp and they taste delicious.

I creep out from behind the tree and crouch behind one of the large rocks lining the river bed. I draw the string and barely poke my bow and head out to take the shot. Thankfully, the animals are on my side of the river and haven't spotted me yet. I'm still a little tense in my shoulders, so holding the string back is a little tedious, but when I let the string slip through my fingers, the arrow plunges deep into the duck's neck. Blood and feather's erupt from everywhere, along with multiple quacks.

All the other birds take flight, and the one I shot flops around on the ground like a fish gasping in hot summer air. After a couple of seconds, the bird dies, and I go to retrieve it. I slide my arrow from the dead animal and clean it in the water. I stuff the duck into my backpack and retreat back into the woods. This should last me a couple of days, so after I'm in the woods, I go to work on the bird with my knife.

For some reason, starting a fire is difficult for me today, so I spend nearly an hour trying to get the wood to ignite.

Finally, I have a small fire and I cook the duck over the small flames. There's feathers everywhere, so I collect the large, neat ones and bury the ruffled ones under a group of pine needles.

I sip on water and munch on the duck's neck for fifteen minutes before going back to walking.

Even now, I still have no idea how big the arena is. I've only discovered a small fraction of the forest and there's still other areas with totally different terrain. I remember seeing the large hill without any life on it, the mountains behind the woods, and the plains. I can't imagine anybody going to the plains. It's practically lifeless and there isn't much coverage. Starting a fire in there would cause the entire field to erupt into flames.

I notice that the trees are starting to evolve into shorter ones, with their limbs closer together. The game disappears completely. Even the birds that once sung loudly have vanished from the trees. I don't like being in a place where there isn't any food, so I quickly turn around and walk the other direction.

Unfortunately, my entire walk is uphill. Hours pass, but I refuse to drink any of my water. I approach the crest of a hill just as a cannon rings through the air. I stop and load my bow.

I hope that Horace has finally met his end. That his alliance with the other careers has ended and now they're killing each other off. I hope that Sara hasn't run into any of the careers. She's so tiny and helpless that she wouldn't stand a chance against any of them- even with her 8 that she scored.

Walking is all I can do now, I'll know who died in a couple of hours.

An hour passes by, and I take out a squirrel that was perched on one of the lower branches and stuff it into my bag. I've been walking for so long that my legs are getting heavy.

I sit down and allow myself five minutes of rest. It's nothing special, but the break definitely helps.

Soon enough, the sun is setting, so I climb into a tree and settle into a branch. Just as I set my bag in another branch, the anthem starts playing. I have to look around a tree to see it, but I can make out the seal in the sky.

Someone's face appears. He's from 9.

I'm a little bummed that I'm the only one who was able to take out one of the careers. If any of the other tributes were smart, they'd form a big alliance and take down the careers together. Of course, that never happens.

The anthem finishes and the sky goes dark. I rub the flower on my backpack and drift off to sleep.

The woods are still dark when I wake. There isn't a sound except for the chattering of my own teeth. Inside my sleeping bag is nice and warm, but the air cold and I can see my breath even in the darkness.

How long have I been sleeping? I try to close my eyes again, but I realize that trying to go back to sleep is futile. Maybe there was a side effect to Haymitch's medicine that causes lack of sleep. The strange this is that I'm not tired. Infact, I feel like I have more than my usual rest.

I know that moving at night is dangerous,but I'm so restless that I climb out of the sleeping bag and eat some duck. My breaths instantly turn into fog, and within minutes, my face and hands are so cold that I can't feel them anymore. I slip on the gloves and pull my jacket over my nose. It's the least I can do, but after a while it starts to warm my frozen bones.

I'm not sure why, but I get so bored that I climb out of the tree and start walking again. Maybe a half hour of some movement will make me realize how tired I am.

An hour passes, and still I continue walking through the woods. I don't like how lifeless everything is at night. I feel like I'm being watched, but I don't let that stop me from marching up a hill. Every tree has an unfamiliar twist to it. Every shadow looks evil, as if it were going to jump out and attack me.

I wonder if Sara is doing okay. If I'm frozen in my sleeping bag, she can't be in any better condition than me. The image of her curled up in pine needles, swatting away flies and spiders, freezing, enters my mind. I know that every camera is on me right now, so I dismiss the image and stay focused.

While I can, I use the bathroom. Hopefully the Gamemakers are nice enough to give me some privacy and make the cameras look elsewhere. When I finish, I get a grip on my bow and keep walking.

I don't know where I'm heading, but I know that sitting in the same place is dangerous.

An owl hoots through the night, so I stop to locate it. Without the leaves, game is easy to spot in the trees. I pull an arrow from my quiver and secure it onto the thin string. At night, the noise of my arrow sliding against my bow is louder than usual, and the owl looks at me anxiously. I aim and wait for the perfect opportunity to shoot. The moon provides enough light for me to see, and the owl's eyes give me a location to shoot for. The string starts to indent on my fingers, so I let the string slip through my loose grasp and send the arrow at the owl.

It senses danger, and takes flight the second I release my arrow. I see the glint of moonlight on my arrow as it flies passes the bird and soars into the sky. The whistle is from the fletchings is loud, and I hear the arrow fly into the night sky, disappearing into the stars. The owl flies away quickly.

Attempting to shoot at night has just costed me an arrow, so now I only have 11 in my quiver. It's a little disappointing, but I remember that 11 is enough to live off of in here. After all, there's only 10 tributes left, and in a couple days, over half will be gone.

Maybe I could go and find that arrow. I have nothing better to do, so I head in the direction that my failed shot flew off to. The projectile couldn't have gone that far. It might have hit a tree trunk a quarter mile from here.

_What are you doing? _I ask myself. I shake my head. I never thought that I would live this long in the games. I've escaped Horace countless times, and literally tiptoed right around death. If I last long enough, maybe I can beat the other tributes.

Sooner or later, I know that I'm going to come into contact with some trial sent to me by the gamemakers. One year, there was a career that didn't team up with the others, and he was surviving in the desert. Unfortunately, he didn't have any water, so he was dragging his feet through the burning sand. He saw an oasis nearby, and started running toward it.

What he didn't see, was the pit that had been dug out in the sand. He fell into the hole, and as he tried to get out, poisonous snakes practically ate him alive. Of course, he suffered- a lot. It took nearly an hour for him to die from the poison, and by then the snakes had eaten almost half of his flesh.

That was the one year that I couldn't watch. Every death was more gruesome than the last. Snakes, falling rocks, coyotes, plants that caused one tribute to bleed internally for three days. It was all so horrible!

How could anybody sit around and watch their kid fight for their life? Then I remember. My mother, brothers and Katniss are right now. They're watching me walk through the woods at night like an idiot! I don't know what time it is at home, but hopefully my mother isn't staying up all night worried about me.

For the thousandth time, I wish that I hadn't used my name for the Tessarae. Although it kept my family fed for a while, now I regret it. It's a stupid thing. You get a few extra meals and the chance to die. I don't know why it was so appealing.

I pray that the game back home is more active than here. Katniss is supporting my family and her's. And even with both of us hunting constantly, I struggle to keep my brother's stomachs full.

Making it home is the only way that I can help them now. If I win, we'll have enough money to feed and cloth most of the District. Of course, we're not allowed to share our winnings because it belongs to the "victor and their family." I can secretly give Katniss supplies. If I make it home, I'll have too much food for my family anyway.

The idea makes me smile, because now, with only 9 tributes left, I have a real chance.

I keep walking, burying my face in my chest to keep myself warm. I'm so far inside my thoughts that I don't notice the ground flatten out, or the trees disappear. When the pine needles evolve into long grass, I finally make the connection.

I've walked out of the trees, and out into the open field that I started the games in. I can see the cornucopia, completely picked clean of all the weapons. But then I spot the true danger.

There's smoke rising into the sky to the right of the silver horn. Instantly, I duck into the bushes and load my bow. I can't believe that I just walked all the way back to the start! I mentally kick myself as I hide, wishing I had remembered the direction I was heading. All those days of running and walking away from this place just to come back to it!

Then I remember. It's night, everybody is sleeping. Whoever is over there is asleep, and I'm wide awake and armed.

I don't like the thought, but if I can pick off one of the tributes, I could easily win the games. Maybe this is where Horace is sleeping. If I get rid of him, I won't ever have to worry about getting beaten to death with his fists. They could have traps, but I quickly dismissed the thought. The careers have never been about laying traps. They all believe that the only way to win the games is to kill off everybody else with swords and throwing knives. I'm the only one in the tribute pool that ever visited the snares.

With a light sigh, I pull slightly on my bow and crouch-walk toward the smoke. I'm so low to the ground that my backpack brushes against the overgrown grass. The first thing that I make out is the small coals still burning in a fire. Then, I see the leftover supplies from the bloodbath. It's all separated. The food is one pile and the weapons are leaned against a large table. It's all so tempting! I want it all! I could live for months off of all the supplies.

I overlook the weapons, and just as I start to head toward them, I see the bodies on the ground.

Five of them are curled up in sleeping bags next to the fire, and one of them is slumped over on a small log. I'm guessing that the one on the log was supposed to keep watch, but they got too tired and fell asleep.

From here, I can take out all of them with my bow in a matter of seconds. I draw the string back and aim for the head of the tribute on the log. _Don't do it, Gale. _The voice whispers in my head. _Be smart. _I cancel the shot and creep silently over the weapons.

My blood is pounding in my ear, and adrenaline is pumping through my legs. I have to stay calm. If I accidentally drop something, or bump into one of the careers, I'm dead.

I'm stalking over to the loot when I nearly run into one of the bodies on the ground. It's the female from 4. I literally tiptoe right over her head and look at the weapons. I can see a sword in her hand, she's got her arms wrapped around it like it was a pillow.

Knives, swords, spears, curved daggers, throwing stars, axes and a shovel that could split somebody's head open all lay on the table. My eyes catch something. A second sheath of arrows and a bow! I can tell that it's not the same bow, but the arrows match the ones that are strapped to my bag. Eagerly, I scoop the ammunition up and count the arrows. There's five, so I take the extra ammo and shove it into my quiver.

Next, I tiptoe back to the supplies. _Get out of here! _I scream at is dangerous. I could have slit their throats by now, but instead I'm looking through their supplies. _Go Gale! Run! Forget the supplies! _

My ears fold and the hair on the back of my neck rises as I hear the rustling of a sleeping bag and the groaning of a human being. I duck behind the supplies, crouch in the shadows and pray for my life. I hear a zipper and footsteps.

The woods seem miles from me, and I know that if I move I will surely be spotted. There's no safe option except to stay put and hide in the shadow of the supply pile. I can't breathe. The footsteps grow closer, and I know it's Horace from the sound of limping and shifting dirt. I must have hit the bone when I stabbed him with my arrow.

He's literally yards from me, and my lip starts quivering when I hear the sharp noise of a blade sliding off of the table. I have to cover my mouth and force my lungs to stop taking in rapid breaths. Every one of my hairs is pointed straight up, and my heart pounds so hard in my chest that it hurts.

Horace stumbles away, but I know that he's still around. I poke my head around a backpack and look in the direction he went off. He's at the edge of the woods, probably going to the bathroom.

I've gotten myself into a situation that I can't escape. If he comes around to this side of the supplies, he'll alert the others and I'll lose my life to the six careers. I can imagine myself being impaled, slashed, sliced, diced, and beaten to death by six other people. I'll be torn apart so fast that I won't even be able to draw a final breath. As I dip back down, I spot a set of matches so I take them and shove it into my pocket. There's also a first aid kit, so I tuck that in the net on my bag and look for Horace again.

He's heading back this way, and I dive to the ground like a scared mouse. For a minute I realize that I can take him out from here with an arrow, but then I remember how fast he is. Even if I did manage to get a shot on him, his screams of pain would wake the others, and I'd have to fight them too.

There's no smart option here!

I hear Horace blow his nose into something and poke at the fire with the tip of his sword. The charred log ignites a small flame, and from what I can hear, he rubs his hands over the warmth.

After ten minutes, I realize that Horace may not be going to bed again. He's going to stay up and watch the sun rise. And when it does, he'll find me, and kill me.

An hour is how long I sit crouched behind the supplies. And when I feel like taking off and running, Horace returns his sword to the table and gets back into his sleeping bag. _Thank God! _

I still give him 30 more minutes before I sneak a peek at the camp again. The first, dim ray of sun is starting to appear in the sky, and I know now that I don't have very long. I've got sixteen arrows in my quiver now, matches and even a first aid kit, so I ditch the idea of looking through the rest of the supplies and start to sneak back toward the woods.

They're all sleeping so quietly. The boy with the mace has his hands under his neck as he snores slightly.

_Kill one. _I order myself. I have to, as much as I don't want to, the only way I'm making it out alive is if I take out the competition. I see the career on the log and draw my string at her head. Her hood is blocking my view, so I sneak around to face her. As far as I know, she's wearing a helmet that could deflect my arrows.

My mouth drops open, the point of my arrow moves away from her. Her hands are tied. She's not working with the careers, she's been taken by them! That's why she hasn't died yet. Her red hair seems to glow in the night.

I almost just sent an arrow into Sara.


	15. Chapter 15

_**An: **__So this is a short chapter, but I promise I'm writing the next one right now. I hope you guys enjoy! LIKE/FOLLOW/REVIEW! I love hearing what you guys think so don't be shy to comment or PM me! :)_

Chapter 15

Once, while hunting alone, I ran into an incredibly large deer. I had never seen one before, so the creature was completely foreign to me. The deer's large, black eyes stared at me curiously just like I was. For a while, neither of us moved. I was too shocked and excited to even think about shooting the animal. After a couple minutes the deer walked off, and I was left with a bewildered feeling in my chest.

That's how I feel now. Seeing Sara hunched over a log is perplexing and shocking. I can't think straight. What is she doing here?

My eyes overlook Sara intensely. Under her hood, her red hair is dirty and crusty, and her once smooth skin has purple and black bruises on her cheekbones and under her eyes. There's a deep cut on the bridge of her nose that makes my teeth grit. She's probably freezing. She isn't covered up in a blanket or anything to protect her from the frosty air. Long, leather strips bind her wrists together, and under the rough bindings are deep cuts and rashes.

How long has she been like this? The careers have obviously been beating her, but I don't understand what for.

My legs want to turn and run, but my mind is being flooded with guilt. If I leave her to die, I'll bring shame to my district. Everyone back at home will remember me as the boy who left his sister tribute for the careers. Even though it's every-man-for-himself, I couldn't imagine leaving a thirteen year old to be killed by the careers.

It's all so sick. There's never been a situation where the careers have tied somebody up before. I'm sure it has happened before my time.

I have a choice to make, and I've never been good a big decisions.

Turn and run, and face shame and guilt in knowing that I killed Sara.

Help her and possibly carry a burden until I die.

If I get Sara away from the careers, we'll have to team up. It's bound to happen. Most likely, she'll leech onto me and live completely on my hunting. I don't like the thought.

I back away, slowly. My eyes are trained on her as distance grows between us. Just as I'm about to turn and run, I hear a voice.

_You're going to leave her? _Of course it's Katniss, who else would I hallucinate? _You're going to leave a thirteen year old for the careers? I thought you were better than that, Gale._

There's so many thoughts in my head right now that I have to press my skull with my hands. I can't take her with me, but I can't leave her to die. There isn't a right choice here!

_You think that I would still want to be around you if you left her? You're dreaming! _Katniss' voice leaves my head, and I feel the weight of her words. That's when I realize that I can't leave her. I barely got away from the careers before, and she won't stand a chance against all of them at once.

Suddenly, I make my choice. I'm on one knee, setting my bow on the ground to inspect her face closely. I'm risking my life for someone who is only going to bring me down.

My fingers cup her chin, and I pull her face toward me, waking her gently.

"Sara." I whisper, checking over her shoulder to look at the careers.

She wakes up, and squints at me, "Please, stop." she begs, moving her face away from me.

"Shh." I command, ducking my head down. "Sara," I'm grabbing her face again, forcing her to look at me, "It's me. It's Gale."

Her eyes are looking at me now, narrowed and confused, brows knitted to fine points over her light brown eyes. Her lips are pursed together to keep them from quivering. It takes her a minute, but when her eyes fall from my face and sees the arrows over my shoulder her face lights up.

"Gal-" I put my hand over her mouth to quiet her. She's going to wake the careers and unleash hell on us. Her breaths accumulate on my dirty palm as I try to keep her quiet. After she calms down, I take my hand from her mouth and press a finger to my lips.

Her head nods slightly, and I know she understands. Without hesitation, I free a knife from my belt loop and start cutting through the leather strips that bind her hands together. They snap in half, and blood sticks her skin and the leather together as I pull them off. She's keeping her sounds of pain in, but I can tell that she's experiencing some serious pain.

When the bindings are off, she's up on her feet and pulling me into a hug.

"Thank you." she whispers into my chest.

I pull her away, toward the woods, but I'm met with resistance. Sara's feet are planted firmly against the ground, and she won't move.

"What the hell are you doing?" I interrogate, anger boiling in my chest.

"My bag!" she points over to the pile of supplies with her free hand.

_No! _I want to scream. _Are you insane? _That's when I realize that my supplies alone won't be enough to keep up both alive. We'll need more stuff. Any kind of food or matches or anything that will prolong our life in the arena.

I let her go, and she tiptoes toward the supplies. I make use of myself by drawing my bow and keeping an eye on the careers. I have my arrowhead aimed at Horace's face. With a simple slip of my fingers, I could put an end to him and not have to worry about him anymore.

_You can do it, _my brain hisses, _kill him! One less person standing in your way. _I can feel my fingers starting to slide along the string, and the bow seems to beg to let the arrow fly. I've never felt so much hate for someone before. If it weren't for Haymitch's cream, I would still be up in a tree bleeding to death with a swollen face!

He deserves this. All the careers do. I'm letting my fingers unclench when I hear the noise. Sara's gasp rings through the air.

I spin on my heel. She's got a black backpack in one hand and she's reaching out to grab something. That's when the pile of supplies slowly leans to the side and tumbles to the ground.

All at once, pots, pans, backpacks, food and water bottles hit the earth with a noise so loud that it wakes nearby birds. Sara is completely pale, standing in front of the supplies with her mouth wide open.

My heart pounds so hard in my chest that it hurts. I watch 90 percent of the supplies tip over and crash to the hard earth. I want to scream at her, we're dead!

I'm just about to take off and run when I hear the heavy foot hit the earth behind me. I spin, drawing my bowstring back. One of the female careers is on her feet, sword raised over her head, running at me. She's too close, and my arrow flies next to her head, causing her hair to move. She swings the sword, and I barely manage to put my bow over my head to block the attack. To my surprise, my weapon doesn't split in half when the blade comes into contact with the bow. Infact, my bow is about as strong as her sword.

To my right, I can see that the other careers have woken up, and are now fetching their weapons. "Go! Get to the woods! I'll catch up!" I shout to Sara. Without hesitation, she takes off, her bag bouncing against her back.

I push the girl off of me and punch her in the nose with the center of my bow. She's on the ground, so I load my bow and focus on the other careers. Horace has a spear now, and he's poised to throw it. I do some sort of barrel roll as the weapon flies past my head.  
>I'm up on one knee now, drawing my string back and aiming it at my opponent. I let the arrow fly toward Horace's head, but he moves at the last minute, causing the arrowhead to only graze his cheek. Another career is on his feet now, heavy mace in his hand, a metal shield in the other. He raises the shield just as I let my arrow fly at his chest, and the projectile ricochets somewhere into the woods. I shoot another arrow into the shield, hoping that it might go through, but I realize that it's futile. That's when I realize that his feet are exposed, so I draw back one last arrow and aim for the leather boot, right where his heel would be.<p>

My arrow flies into his foot, and he falls to the ground with a loud shout. I'm just about to send an arrow into the boy's heart when I see the girl pounce at me in my peripheral. I'm too late. She knocks my bow out of my hand as she jumps on top of my shoulders, causing me topple over. I hit the ground- hard, and fight her off.

I can't free my knife, and she's got a sword raised over her head.

_Get out! Free yourself! _I scream in my head. I let out some sort of cry from deep within my throat and buck my hips. She won't move! As I try to pry her heavy legs from the ground she hits me in the cheek with the butt of her sword, causing me to see stars.

Now I'm completely pinned, my arms are tucked under her knees and I have no weapons to use. With a last hope, I buck my hips, but she still doesn't budge.

Another strike to the head and I can barely keep my eyes open. Hopefully, she'll kill me quick, so I don't have to be in pain for much longer. _This is it,Gale. Say goodbye. _Tears stream down my face, not from emotion but because my nose has been hit too hard. I look down at the flower still strapped to my bag. _I'm sorry you have to see this, Katnip. _I close my eyes, waiting for the blade to crack open my skull and destroy my brain, but it doesn't come.

"Aw," hisses the voice above me, "baby's crying!" she lets out an ugly snort. "Look at 'em, Horace!" I can't die like this, not while my opponent teases me. I remember at school one time, getting into a fight with some kid because of his teasing.

I buck my hips again, this time stronger, but it isn't enough to get her off of me. I'm not sure where the other careers are, probably watching me die close by. With a loud hiss, she strikes the sword toward my head. I pull away just in time, and the blade sinks into the ground.

She's got a knife now. "Where should we start?" she asks cruelty.

I work up some spit in my mouth and send it into her face. It's a nasty mix of blood, mucus and saliva, and it does the trick. She wipes the mixture from her face and grits her crooked teeth. "Never thought you could get and uglier!" I hiss, a wry smile crossing my lips.

I know she's angry. She takes the blade of her knife and cuts deeply into my cheekbone.

It hurts, but I won't let her hear my sounds of pain. I grit my teeth and suck it up. She draws the blade all the way to my jaw before letting out another ugly laugh.

"Hurts doesn't it?" she hisses. I will not cry, I will not scream, I will not be weak. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath, feeling my own blood run down my face, "Ready to die 12?"

I accept it. There's no way I'm ever making it out of here alive. I will die in the fake woods that the Capitol threw me into. I hate everything right now, and I wish that she would just put an end to me already.

"Do it." I spit in her face again, this time some of it goes into her mouth. With anger, she raises the dagger over her head and grits her teeth together. I close my eyes. I won't look when I die.

The dagger doesn't plunge into my head, instead I hear a faint whistle and a sinking sound in front of me. For a couple seconds, I'm too scared to open my eyes, but when I force them open I see the girl on top of me covered with blood that seeps from her neck. I catch a glimpse of some sort of short metal rod lodged in her throat.

As she chokes on her own blood, I force her off and get to my feet. Sara stands ten yards from me, half a dozen silver rods in her hand. Did she just throw that?

I remember the other careers and get my bow from the ground. I send one last arrow at Horace's head before running, pushing Sara ahead of me as our feet pound against the ground.


	16. Chapter 16

_**AN:**_**Sorry for the long wait... I finished writing about half this chapter half a week ago, but I suffered a knee injury and I've been forced to stay in bed with my leg elevated. It's nothing major, but hopefully I'll be able to sit in a chair right again soon xD. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Leave a like/review and make sure to follow the story! :)**

Chapter 16

It's only early morning, the sun is barely over the trees, giving the arena just enough sunlight to warm the dew stained grass. I can see my breaths, white clouds steaming out of my nose and mouth rapidly into my frozen face. Cold sweat trickles down my back and chest, causing my skin to get goosebumps. My feet pound against the ground. I check over my shoulder.

There's two careers after me right now. One of them limps from where I shot him in the foot. Wind howls into my eardrums, blocking out all other noise except my breathing and rapid heart rate. Sara stands in front of me, looking in horror at the careers that pursue so close behind.

When I reach her, I push her to run, almost knocking her over. "Run!" I shout. My legs burn now, and I know I can't sprint for that much longer. Soon I'll have to stop. Soon I'll have to face the danger that lurks after me.

To my surprise, Sara can run faster than I can. It almost looks unnatural how long her stride is. I do my best to keep up, but soon I notice that I'm falling behind.

"You're dead 12!" I hear behind me.

5 yards. That's how close they are now. I barely escaped death before, and I was only facing a girl that wasn't even my size. With two of them after me, I won't escape again.

I can hear Sara calling me, telling me to run faster, but I can't. Even when I try to pick up speed, I seem to go even slower. I just can't keep up with her anymore, there's a painful cramp in my side and I'm still woozy from getting knocked to the ground.

I hear a loud grunt from someone behind me, so I turn quickly and draw my arrow.

The sun glints off of the knife's blade as it propels through the air, and just as I'm about to let my arrow fly into the career's chest, there's a ripping sensation through my leg. I collapse to the ground. My hands fumble over the knife that has entered my lower calf. Blood pours over my cold fingers as I let out a grunt of pain. Under my flesh, I can feel the loose muscle and torn skin that the knife has caused.

The girl from one has a large smirk on her face. They stop sprinting, but jog toward me. I grit my teeth, I can still shoot from this position.

I force my injured leg to straighten. My hand flies back and grabs another arrow, loading it onto my bow and drawing the string onto my chest. Color leaves the boy's face as I point my weapon right at his chest.

The girl is smart enough to sprawl out on the ground, but the boy isn't. I release the string and with a loud whistle, the arrow plunges so deep into his lower throat that half of the arrow can be seen from the other side.

Without thinking, I rip the knife from my calf with a loud shout of pain and throw it at the girl's head. For a second, I think that the knife will actually stick, but it bounces off her skull and sinks into the ground. She's on the ground, dazed, so I get myself up and run.

Horace and the other boy are limping toward us, but Sara and I crash through the woods before they can send any other weapons toward my head.

"Go, go, go!" Sara screams from behind me. I'm limping as fast as I can, but I know that it won't be enough to get away from the careers quickly. Shooting pains go through my calf, all the way up to my thigh. Luckily, the throw was weak and didn't go into anything major.

I can't feel anything except the pain running through my leg. Blood pours down my face, and out of my calf, soaking my pants. I've only cut myself with a knife a couple of times, and those wounds seem like tiny scrapes compared to these ones.

I know how slow I'm running when Sara jogs past me.

I follow her through the woods, doing my best to ignore the pain and run after her. At this point, I don't care where we're going, I just want to be as far away from the career's camp as possible. Whatever I was thinking, it was a mistake going into that death trap. I barely made it out with a cut face and a knife wound to my calf.

That's when I realize how important my legs are. I won't be able to quietly sneak around the forest to hunt anymore. And if any predators come around I won't be able to run away.

My eyes catch something in Sara's hand. She's holding silver rods in her right hand. The same silver rod that entered the girl's neck while she pinned me to the ground. Is that what she showed the Gamemakers? Is that how she got such a high score?

The hills make it difficult to run, but at least it's downhill. My boots barely grip the ground, mud slides around everywhere. Before I know it, my feet slip and I'm sent down the hill. Over and over again, I flip. First I land on my back, then my side, then my stomach and then my shoulder hits the limb of my bow. Grunts escape me as my vision is filled with an image of a spinning forest. Sticks and dirt enter my wounds, causing them to scream in pain. Leaves get tangled in my crusty hair and my face is getting more scratched up from the leafless bushes.

When I stop, I land on my back, causing my spine to let out a loud crack. I don't get up, I let the tears start flowing down my freezing cheeks. I'm not sure if I just broke my back or if the bones just snapped back into place, but I don't dare move.

Sara runs down the hill, almost falling on the way down. "Oh man," she breathes, "can you keep going?" We have to go. We're not that far from the career's camp and I know for sure that they'll at least attempt to go after the both of us.

"Yeah," I grunt again, forcing myself up, "yeah I'm good, just go." I limp after her, my leg searing with pain. For a minute, I keep up with her, but once again my footing causes me to slide down another small hill.

When I hit the bottom I realize that Sara has continued to run. "Sara!" I call out. No answer. "Sara!" I scream desperately. She can't leave me. How could she leave me? I went back for her! I'm the one who let her go! "Don't leave!" I choke out. I see her red hair disappear into the trees, and I'm left alone.

"Damn it!" I scream. I just took a knife just to get her out of there! How could she just leave _me? _I catch my breath and let my heart rate get slower and slower. I use my bow to help me up to my feet, but the pain from my wounds are so extreme that I'm forced to stay on the ground.

My eyes fall on the flower strapped to my backpack. I can't believe that it's still there after that fight, but seeing it reminds me that I can still win this game. I don't get up, but instead I scoot along the ground, over to another hill. That's when I hear the footsteps behind me.

Without hesitation, I draw an arrow from my quiver and load my bow. I have to hold my bow horizontal to the ground to keep the limbs from scraping against the earth. My eyes search around, watching for any predators that are after me.

I expect to see Horace jump out of a bush, or a tree, but instead I see a little girl peer out from behind a thick tree.

"There you are," she breathes, I let my bow down and slide the arrow back into my quiver, "I thought I lost you!" She runs next to me and kneels down, taking her backpack off.

"I thought you left me to die." I admit, feeling a little embarrassed.

She doesn't say anything. Instead, she opens the flap of her backpack and starts searching through the contents. "What are you doing?" I ask.

"You're hurt! What do you think I'm doing?" She snaps. I put my head down, and my eyes stare at my leg wound.

"We can't stop here." I say.

"We'd move if you could walk." She spits. her tone surprises me. The few days I've known her, she was always quiet and seemed so small. But the games have changed her. She takes out a large white shirt and starts tearing it into strips. Then, she pulls out a water bottle and unscrews the cap. "Okay." she grabs the corner of my jacket and shoves it into my face, "Bite this."

"What? Why?"

"Gale!" Her eyebrows are narrowed at me in anger, "Bite. It." I bite onto my jacket and scowl at her.

She purses her lips together and takes my boot off. It hurts a little as she slides them off of my heel, but I ignore the pain and look up into the trees. I can feel her start to lift up my pants, but I jerk my foot away from her.

"That's gonna hurt!" I yell.

"It's going to hurt a lot worse when it gets infected!" She's yelling now, her fists are clenched and she's scowling. I know she's right. If I don't clean all the sticks and dirt from the wounds, they'll get infected, and I could have blood poisoning.

"Fine." I growl, letting her take my leg and pull the pants up over my calf. The minute the fabric leaves my skin, the wound screams with a searing pain. Half dried blood causes the pants to stick with my wound, and I bang my fists against the forest floor as Sara peels my skin from the pants.

Thank God that my jacket is between my teeth, because if it wasn't, I would have just broken all my teeth from clenching my jaw so tight.

Sara doesn't give me any time to recover before she pours water into the wound. I'm yelling again, and I don't care if the careers can hear me. The pain is too strong to stay quiet.

"Sorry." Sara whispers. Next, she squeezes my leg tightly, causing blood stained water and a little bit of dirt to seep from my wound. She washes it with water one more time before taking the white cloth and wrapping it over and over again around the wound. Almost instantly, my blood stains through the fabric, but as far as I can tell the bleeding has stopped.

"Thanks." I say.

"How'd you know I was with them?" her eyes lock on mine, she purses her lips and wipes my blood off of her hands.

"What?" I question, "I didn't. I didn't even mean to go to the careers camp," I take a few heavy breaths and clench my teeth as another wave of pain washes over my leg, "it just sorta… happened."

She doesn't seem to believe me. Her eyebrows narrow thoughtfully and her teeth close tightly around her bottom lip.

"Why didn't you run? What were you trying to do?" she takes the white cloth and inches toward my face.

"I didn't run because," I let a smile creep onto my face, "because I'm an idiot." I say sarcastically. I honestly don't know what I was doing. I didn't know that she was there with the careers, and I'm not sure what lured me toward the camp. I _should _have run, but something lead me toward the camp.

Her head shakes, and she starts wiping away the blood that covers my face. The knife wound on my cheek doesn't hurt nearly as much as my leg, but I still wince as she cleans it.

"Now I get to ask a question." I state. I'm not really looking for permission, but I wait for her to nod before asking. "What did you show the Gamemakers?" A smile crosses her face.

She doesn't reply. Instead, she keeps wiping away my wound and avoiding eye contact with me. I keep my eyes locked on the side of her face.

There's a small bruise on her jaw, and the cut on her nose looks deep. A patch of dark brown dirt stains the skin above her eyebrows and her lips are chapped. Her freckles can barely be seen under the layer of grime that covers her body, but from this distance I can almost count them all. Even her hair is darker than normal. I wonder how many shades darker my skin and hair have gotten. The last time I looked in a mirror was when I viewed the wounds Horace gave me.

Sara stands, helps me to my feet and shoves all the bloody rags into her bag along with the water bottle. I use my bow as support to stand, but I know that I still won't be able to walk as well as before.

"You didn't answer my question." I say, leaning against the curve of my bow.

Sara makes eye contact with me and scowls.

"How'd you get that 8?" I interrogate. There's no doubt that the camera's are on me and Sara right now. Everyone is probably wondering how a thirteen year old from district 12 could get a score that high, and the Gamemakers will make sure that the viewers will find out.

Sara lets out a sigh and gets to her feet, sliding her backpack on. "I showed them this." She says, grabbing something from the sheath on her belt and handing it to me.

I turn the small weapon in my hands. It's shining silver, like my bow, about six inches long and isn't any wider than my index finger. One of the ends is sharpened, and the other has a point on it that matches my arrows.

"What is it?" I look at the rod. It looks like one of my arrows without the fletchings, only shorter.

"It's a flechette." She takes the rod back and turns it into her hand. I don't understand, so I look at her with my head tilted.

"What do you do with it?"

"Throw it." she says.

"Like a knife?"

"No. You have to throw these straight," she says, "like how an arrow flies." She looks up at me and smiles, "Want to see?"

"Sure." I smile back and stand behind her, giving her room to throw.

She takes her stance and holds the rod in the middle, letting the end of it rest against her wrist. Instead of bringing her arm over her head like I thought she was going to, she swings her arm, keeping it straight and releasing the rod from her hand. To my surprise, the weapon flies as straight as an arrow and buries itself into a nearby tree with a loud _thunk_.

I can't even say anything, I'm in too much awe to think of anything to break the silence.

"Wow." I breathe, raising my eyebrows. "Where did you learn that?

She shuffles her feet, kicking away some dirt, "There used to be woodpeckers on the side of my house," she shrugs, "I just threw sticks at them."

"Yeah but," I point at the tree with the rod sticking from its trunk, "that's not just stick throwing." I smile at her, and she returns the smile, then walks over to the tree to fetch her weapon.

"So which way is the river?" she asks, unlodging the flechette from the tree.

"You've been there? Is that the only water source?"

"As far as I know, yes," she says, walking back over to me, "and my camp used to be by the river, but I ran into a tribute so I had to move. That's when I ran into the careers."

My brain clicks, and I make the connection. I remember hearing the scream of terror in the woods, and finding a dead tribute minutes later. I dead tribute- with a hole in his neck. My teeth clench. It's hard to imagine that Sara put an end to someone else's life.

"You killed that boy." I say. "That's why you moved." I don't know why, but I feel panicked. Maybe teaming up wasn't such a smart idea.

Sara puts her head down, pursing her lips. "Wish I would have just run." She shakes her head.

I can remember when I killed that girl, and the guilt and emotions that stirred inside me after. "Hey," I say, putting a hand on her shoulder, "don't beat yourself up." I wish I could say something more, but I can't. I don't know how to comfort people, let alone comfort a thirteen year old who just murdered someone.

"Let's go." she says. She walks through the woods, and I limp after her, using my bow as support.


	17. Chapter 17

_**AN:**__ So my knee is pretty much healed. I can sit in a chair without having to worry about the swelling getting too bad! xD I've been DYING to start writing again. This chapter isn't as long as the other ones, but I had to update. I hope you enjoy. MAKE SURE TO LIKE/FAVORITE/ COMMENT! I love hearing what you guys think of the story so far. _

Chapter 17

I'm not sure how, but I have the strength to limp after Sara over the hills, using my bow as a walking stick. As the trees pass overhead, and the hours fly by, I think about home.

I can't help but wonder how everything is back at home. Hopefully, mine and Katniss' family is doing alright with me gone. Images of my mother struggling to keep the house clean and feed my brothers enters my mind, causing my throat to develope a lump. I can't imagine the stress my mother is feeling now that I'm gone.

A rock appears out of nowhere, and I twist my knee while trying to regain balance. The quick movement in my leg causes the pain to shoot throughout my calf. A groan escapes my throat, and all at once I feel exhausted.

"Need to stop?" Sara asks, keeping her voice low.

I'm breathing heavily, and my throat burns, _yes I want to stop. _"No. Keep going, I'm fine." My sentence is cut off by another heavy breath. Sara stops, turns around and crosses her arms.

"I didn't ask if you were fine." She crosses her arms irritably, "Do you _need _to stop?" She sounds more vicious this time.

We've been walking for a long time now. My calf aches, along with my shoulders and feet. There's more moisture under my arms than there is in my mouth. "Sure." I say. Sara takes her bag off and takes a seat on a tree stump. I do the same, only I have limp and hop on my good foot to take a seat on the ground.

I feel like there's a second heart in my leg. With every beat of my heart, another pulse echoes slightly after in my leg.

"Hey," I say, getting Sara's attention. She looks up at me, and I smile at her, "Thanks."

She lets out a small laugh, "I should be thanking you." She mutters, unzipping her bag and pouring out the contents.

"For what?" I ask. Of course, I know the answer, but I ask anyway.

Her lips purse, and her eyebrows knit together. She takes about a minute before responding, "For not leaving me to the careers. You didn't have to save me, but you did anyway."

"It was nothing." I say.

"You took a _knife-" _she lets the word hang in the air, "a _knife _in the leg to get me out. That's not nothing, Gale."

Guilt overflows my chest. I was going to shoot her in the head, and I would have done it if I hadn't looked at her face. The only I let her go because I didn't want to be a disgrace to my district. If I left her behind, and I made it out alive, nobody would see me the same way anymore, I'd bring shame to 12, and possibly lose sponsors. I didn't save her for her; I saved her for myself.

I shrug in response and put my head down. I wipe my bow clean, not because it's dirty, but because I need something to do.

Sara eats some sort of lumpy liquid that looks like smashed herbs mixed with water. Her facial expressions give me a pretty good idea of what it tastes like.

"Man," she breathes, "I miss Capitol food." I laugh - louder than intended, because I realize how much I miss it too.

"Yeah, I do too."

"You know what else I miss?" she asks, wry smile creeping across her lips.

"What?"

"You, sassing Effie all the time. Slamming doors and breaking stuff." I cover my face in my hands, and she rolls onto her side, giggling uncontrollably. Looking back, I realize how childish that was, but I still don't regret it.

Sara and I laugh for a good minute, and then we realize where we are, and stop at once. For that short moment, I felt like I was in the woods with Katniss. Telling stories, laughing occasionally, smiling, even though our lives are horrible. We sit in silence for a while, and finally the pains in my leg start to fade away.

"What's the flower for?" she asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Oh, um." I touch the katniss root with my fingers, "Haymitch sent it to me." Sara smiles, and I smile back.

"He hasn't sent me anything yet." she states. For some reason, I feel guilty about it. I remind myself not to take out the cream that he also sent me.

"Not anything?"

"Nope." She puts her head down.

"Tell you what," I say, raising my eyebrows, "you haven't gotten a gift yet because you're strong. You don't need help from anybody else." I smile warmly and lean against my good knee.

"Well, now I have you. And I say we make a good team." She smiles. She saved my life, and I saved hers. We had each other's backs without even making an official alliance. I remember when Katniss and I started to divide the game without agreeing to it. We became a team without even realizing.

"And I have you." I say.

The sun is starting to set. I can't climb a tree for the night, so Sara and I camp out by a large boulder with bushes nearby. She showed me some sort of berry that grew on the bushes everywhere. They look dried up and useless, but they're sweet and cause my mouth to water. I get a small fire going after setting two twitch-up snares and another spring snare. My wire is slowly depleting, so I use it in moderation.

Sara brings back a squirrel with one of her flechettes poking out the ribs. I skin it and cook it, and after the meat is charred I give her the better half and we eat. I can tell she doesn't like it, but she eats the whole thing and gulps down a lot of water.

"How much further until the river?" she asks.

"Half of a day." I say, "Probably more with my leg. Well make it there by noon if we get up early." I finish off the rest of my squirrel and throw the bones into the fire. The flames are a little higher than I would like, but with the two of us on a team now, I'm not worried about getting jumped by Horace.

"Okay good. I need to refill my water bottle."

"We can hunt around there too. Not a lot of food for the both of us."

The sun slowly inches over the horizon, fading over the tops of the trees. Eerie shadows are cast on the ground, creeping over the hills and treetrunks. I warm my hands over the fire as it starts to die down.

"Should we put more wood on?" Sara questions.

"No. It's getting dark." Fire is a dead giveaway to the careers of our location. With my leg, I don't want to get anywhere near them right now. Sara shivers, so I reach into my bag and pull out the extra rain jacket and gloves.

"Thanks." She says, smiling as she puts the gloves on.

When the sun completely disappears, I stomp the fire out with my good leg and lean against a thick tree. Sara joins me, brushing the area next to me before sitting down. We both arm ourselves. I put an arrow on my bow and grab a knife, Sara takes one of her flechettes and a knife out, gripping them both in her hands.

The cold temperature freezes my face and hands, so I put on my hood and nussle into my chest, using my own breath as warmth. An hour passes, and Sara and I are both shivering, shaking in our jackets.

"Why is it so cold?" Sara grunts, crossing her arms in her jacket.

"Because the Gamemakers hate us." I say. We both laugh, but it's covered by the sound of chattering teeth.

Sara's head falls on my shoulder. At first, the new weight feels awkward and uncomfortable, but soon our breathing is synchronized and I feel a little warmer.

"I want my crappy mattress." She jokes. I laugh, and we both return to shivering. "Can't we just light a fire for the night?" she asks.

"No," my teeth chatter some more, "someone will see it."

My eyes stay wide open as Sara falls asleep. My leg aches in pain, but I ignore it and focus on retaining a little bit of my heat.

Another forty-five minutes pass when I remember the cream that Haymitch sent me. I'm not sure if I can use it on puncture wounds, but right now I'm desperate. Sara stays still and quiet as I slip the small tube from my bag and pull the leg of my pants up to my knee. Goosebumps cover my skin and the hair stands straight up when the cold air touches my flesh.

I take the bandages off and rub a decent amount of cream into the wound, covering it completely and putting my dirty fingers between the severed muscle. When I finish, I put the medicine back into my bag and wrap my wound in the bloody bandages again. I'm not sure if the medicine will help, but my leg isn't going to magically heal itself with a few bandages.

Making sure not to let Sara's head fall, I pull my knees to my chest and clench my teeth. I wish I had my gloves now! My face is completely frozen, I can't feel the hairs on my jaw like usual, and it hurts everytime I sniffle. After what seems like hours, I finally drift off to sleep.

My dreams are disturbing. I know I'm dreaming, but no matter what, I can't wake myself up. I'm in the woods, lightning strikes the ground as I fight off people that I don't recognize. Bodies surround me, wielding swords, knives, axes and bows as they charge toward me. I shoot arrow after arrow into my targets, hitting throats, eyes and hearts, but no matter how many arrows I let loose, my quiver doesn't empty. I have to fight, to live.

The crowd is spreading thinner, and I dodge a spear and send an arrow into a boy's chest, then they all disappear at once.

I blink a few times before the scene changes. I'm looking at myself now. My hair is a wreck, there's a long cut across my face and my facial hair is the longest it's ever been. I'm dressed in the arena outfit, with my backpack and bow in hand.

"Choose." The man speaking looks like me, but his voice belongs to someone else.

"What? Choose what?" I spin around. To my right, Katniss is kneeling on the ground, blood pouring from her face as she looks at me. Her hands and feet are bound together by thick rope.

I check over my older shoulder, where my mother is also bound, thrown onto the ground. Panic courses through me.

"What do you mean choose?" I beg, sounding hysterical. Both of them are calling me- begging for my help. My bow and arrows are gone. I have no way to defend myself.

"Better hurry." I look back at myself- at the man who is my twin. He has an arrow loaded to his bow, and flames erupt from the tip of the arrowhead. His aim shifts over to my mother, and I can literally feel the heat from his fire arrow.

I let out a shout, flinging myself in front of my mom to stop the arrow. For a minute, I expect the arrow to go through my skull and end my life, but all I feel is the heat of the flames.

"You've made your choice," he says, almost calmly. The bow shifts over to Katniss, who I barely make eye contact with before he- _I _send the flaming arrow through her chest. Another scream erupts from deep in my throat, and I throw myself over to help her.

Fire catches on her clothes, but underneath the raging flames, she's screaming guttural sounds that sound like they're from an animal. The flames ignite her completely, and I can't see anything except for fire, which is now spreading on the ground and catching on my own clothes. The entire world is red, but I am not burning. I stand in the flames, untouched.

The scene changes again. The flames turn into long, overgrown trees that bear pink flowers. _Spring. _

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and as I turn to look who it is, a pair of lips meet my own. Her body presses against mine, her hands run up and down my chest.

My voice echoes in the background. _You're dreaming, Gale. Wake up. _

My eyes open for a split second to look at her. Pink, white and orange flowers are braided into her hair, her skin is smooth and clear, her lips are perfectly moisturized, and her father's jacket seems brand new.

"Katniss." I hum, closing my eyes again. Our lips meet again, and Katniss balls my shirt in her fists. Suddenly, she steps away from me, pursing her lips together. "What?" I ask.

I catch the flowers in her hair withering before my eyes. Every flower in the trees dries up and falls to the ground in a matter of seconds, the leaves turn brown and cumple up, and a cold wind blows my hair around.

There's a grunt of effort before I feel the ripping sensation through my spine and stomach. when I look down, I see a sword protruding from the area below my sternum, the steel is soaked in my blood. My lungs fail, my heart stops pumping blood and my veins turn to liquid lead. All I can do is stare at Katniss, who is now covered in scratches and cuts, her hair messy and her features not as stunning as they just were.

Before I can reach out to her, the sword twists in my chest and is ripped from my body, and I fall over like the leaves from the trees. I see Horace standing above me, grinning. I grow cold as the world fades to black.

I wake up. My whole lower body is numb and I can't feel my toes. Panic courses in my chest, and I throw my hands over my torso. Perspiration coats my entire body, soaks my hair and drips down my nose. Whimpering escapes my chest.

_Just a dream. Calm down. It's not real. _I can still feel the ripping sensation through my chest from the sword. _But it felt real. _

My hands run over my legs, and my fingers brush something cold off my pants. My eyes open wide. The trees aren't bare anymore. Morning light peers through the white clouds, barely illuminating the arena. Panic starts to course through me again. Everywhere- even on the ends of my arrows, lies a thick layer of white snow.

_That explains the cold. _


	18. Chapter 18

**AN:** _I'm REALLY sorry for the long wait. I've been caught up with school and this chapter was a little bit tedious for me to write. (serious case of writers block) Anyway, hope you enjoy. Make sure to give the story a favorite or follow if you're enjoying it! Feel free to leave a review or comment when you're done reading! Hope you enjoy :)_

Chapter 18

_**Sara **_

Back home, the cold weather forces me to put on extra clothing and sometimes even forces me to have to snuggle up with my mother and father.

I look around at the new landscape. Every inch of snow reflects a ray of sunlight into my eyes, causing my vision to blur and block out my peripheral. The white powder blends into the trees' bark, causing one half of the branches and trunks to be white and the other to stay its light shade of brown. This area doesn't look familiar anymore, and the hills now seem too dangerous to tread across.

A layer of powdery snow rests on my clothes, soaking my clothes and causing my skin to get goosebumps. I wipe the substance away with the sleeve of my jacket.

I pick my head up off of Gale's shoulder. The cut on his face still looks bad, and I can tell that he didn't sleep very comfortably, but he looks younger, and more peaceful in his sleep. His dark, brown hair is greasy, and snowflakes entwine with the soft fibers. Deep breaths escape the small part in his lips, causing a small cloud of steam to rise into his face.

I stand up, stretch, and shove my freezing hands into my jacket pockets. My stomach lets out a loud grumble, and I know that I'll have to figure something out to eat.

For a minute, I almost decide to wake Gale, but I stop and remind myself of how much rest he needs for his leg. I tell myself he'll be fine and walk in a random direction. My hands are turning blue, and they shake as I take out one of my silver flechettes and spin in between my fingers. There's a constant pinching sensation on the tips of my ears, and I know that if I don't warm up soon, I risk hypothermia.

My prints are left in the deeps snow as I walk along the forest, keeping my eyes up in the trees and walking quietly. My steps are louder than Gale's, but they're quiet enough to hunt in. I can feel my wet skin starting to form a nasty rash under my soaked clothes, but I keep moving and try to stop myself from shivering so much.

With the snow on the ground, Gale and I will have to move a lot. Wherever we go, our tracks will be left behind for the other tributes to follow. I'm not sure if it's the thought of being tracked or the cold that sends a chill down my spine.

I think about Gale, and how much I owe him for rescuing me. He could have run. He could have just looked the other way and kept walking, but he stopped. I shake my head. He took a throwing knife to the leg and lost plenty of arrows because _I _woke them up. I caused Gale's injury. My heart becomes a heavy boulder, my arms and legs feel too heavy to move, and every vein in my body fills with liquid lead. He's hurt because of me.

_You hurt him, _my brain provokes. _You hurt him. You're responsible. This is all your fault. You almost killed him. You almost killed him. _

Suddenly, my body is too heavy, and I have to lean against a tree to stop myself from falling into the snow. It's true. If I hadn't have been stupid enough for the career's to capture, Gale would never have had to rescue me. Why did he rescue me?

I wipe the tears from my eyes and place my head on the tree bark.

_It's not your fault, _I tell myself.

_Yes it is. _

_No. It can't be my fault. _

_You're gonna kill him. You're a hazard. _

My fingers go through my hair and adjust the weight of my backpack straps on my shoulder before moving again.

I walk for a long time, the shimmering snow beneath my feet as I quietly skulk through the forest. My eyes spot a squirrel hanging vertically on a tree trunk, I take it out easily with a hard throw of my flechette and stuff the game into my bag.

Gale's arrows could have taken the creature out a little easier. Guilt settles on me.

He probably can't hunt anymore. He can't run, or walk, especially in the snow. I took his leg from him. Angrily, I start scaling up a tree. Snow slips beneath my boots as I slowly create distance between the ground and I. Normally, scaling a tree this high would make me feel free, but the guilt of almost killing Gale keeps my heart sunk like a rock in water.

I go high enough so that the branches start to sag from the weight of the heavy snow. I crouch on one of the thinner branches and use another stick as support. The sun is starting to peer over the trees, sending bright streaks of golden light onto the snow covered ground. Everywhere I look, a glint of sunlight bounces off the snow and into my eyes. Back home, the snow gets dirty so quick from all the coal and dirt that floats in the air. I can remember playing in the snow with my mother as a child, slinging small snowballs and throwing the white powder into the air.

Birds chirp over my head as I indulge myself in my own thoughts.

_**Gale **_

Snow. Everywhere I look. I curse the Gamemakers in my mind as I wipe the freezing substance from my soaked clothes. I don't know how I'll ever dry these, let alone be able to take them off without freezing to death. My eyes catch Sara's footprints in the deep snow as I get up and stretch. The small tracks stand out, and I know that I'll be able to catch up to her easily. My leg is a little better, but I still practically drag it through the snow, wincing every time I bend my knee to walk.

I'm practically dead without my leg. I don't know if I can still climb into trees, but I know that running is definitely out of the question. Hopefully the Gamemakers will let my leg heal before sending the careers onto me again.

The sun shines through the gaps in the trees, causing the snow to glow brighter and my vision to fade a little. I walk through the woods, covering my eyes with one hand and wielding my bow in the other, following Sara's footprints that were left in the deep snow. My toes go completely numb, and I wiggle them in my boots to try and warm them up.

I don't know why Sara left, let alone left without waking me up. She's not exactly capable of handling the careers alone. I drag my dead leg through the snow, following her tracks.

"Sara?" I call out.

The sun glints of the snow and into my eyes. If I weren't fighting- surviving, I'd say that the landscape was rather beautiful. The way that the snow mixes with the treebark and lays on top of the bare branches makes the forest seem peaceful. Almost as peaceful as the woods back at home.

I walk for a while, following Sara's tracks. I come across a spot of blood on the ground, but I know that it isn't hers. Her tracks lead me to a tree, but stop right at the trunk. "Sara?" I ask.

There's no response. I circle the tree and look for any more of her footprints.

"Sara!" I call louder, my voice a little desperate.

"Gale. Up here." I turn toward her voice. She's perched high in a tree, crouching on one of the thinner branches. Her hood is flipped up, and she's got a couple squirrels dangling from her belt. "Enjoying the weather?" She asks.

I laugh. "I'm more of a spring person." I sling the bow over my chest and start climbing the tree, making sure to take it slow. My leg whines as I push myself up the tree, but I ignore the pain shooting through my limb and keep climbing.

When I reach a fork near her, I stop and take in deep breaths. The frozen air stings at my lungs and throat, but the climb forces me to pant like a dog.

Neither of us say anything for a while. Eventually, my breathing slows and becomes silent, and the only thing I can hear is the birds singing. The cold solidates the runniness in my nose and turns my nose into an icicle. My hands dive into my jacket pockets and I nuzzle my nose into my chest. Sara's teeth clatter together as she looks out into the woods with distant eyes, her mind obviously wandering somewhere else.

Her eyes are narrowed to a point and the edges of her lips are scrunched, as if she smelled something bad. I remember wearing the same look after my father died in the mining accident.

"You alright?" I ask, crossing my arms.

She shrugs her shoulders, "Just thinking."

"About?"

She gives me a long stare, her lips pressed into a fine white line. Her skin is almost as red as her hair, and her lips are blue and purple. Snow is trapped in the strands of her fire red hair, and on the fibers of her clothes. "About the careers." I can tell by the tone in her voice that she doesn't want to give any details.

I pry anyway, "What about them?" I warm my hands with the little warmth that erupts from my breaths and eye her curiously. She doesn't answer, instead she looks out to the trees, watching the mountains that peer over the treetops. Her eyes grow wide again, and the disgusted look on her face returns, her gaze is miles away, and her mind probably even further.

"I never thanked you," She mutters, keeping her eyes on the trees, "I mean… _Really _thanked you."

"For what?"

Her lips quiver, but I can't tell if it's from the cold or something else. She lets out a shaky breath. "For rescuing me." Her brown eyes meet mine, and I can see the small collection of water in them.

"What did they need you for? Why were you there?" I regret the question as it leaves my lips, and I can tell it causes her some pain.

She takes in another shaky breath and lets it out slowly. "They wanted to know where you were. That one guy, Horace? He really wants you dead. They thought that I knew where you were, and insisted that I tell them. And when I didn't they-" She wipes water from her red eyes

I feel a pang of guilt. She was captured because of me, probably even beat just so the careers could find me. So Horace could find me. I bite my lip.

"I told them that you'd be in the woods," she admits, "and that's the day that the girl from 2 died." She puts her hand over her mouth and shakes her head, "I didn't mean for them to find you." She wipes water from her eyes and runs her hands through her dirty hair.

"I'm still alive. I don't blame you for anything." I run my fingers through my hair and itch the hair on my jaw. She nods her head, but I can still see the guilty look in her eyes.

I dread the moment that snow starts falling from the sky and onto my shoulders.

"We should go." Sara says, starting to descend the tree. When she passes me, I grab onto her arm, forcing her to look at me.

"Hey," I say, clenching my jaw, "you don't owe me anything. And you don't need to worry about the careers anymore." I give her a small smile and let my words hang in the air. "I got your back if you got mine." I say.

"_Okay, now draw the string." I pull the frayed bowstring of Katniss' bow in front of my face. The woods are quiet, mainly due to Katniss and I stomping around the woods so much today instead of hunting. Finally, she agreed to let me shoot one of her bows. "Not in front of your face. You'll hit yourself." _

_She slips behind me, and the hair on the back of my neck rises from her closeness. I let out a shaky breath as one of her hands presses against the middle of my back, and another tips my elbow toward the sky. As if by magic, her touch makes me draw the bow further, but the tension in my shoulders make my hands shake. _

"_Relax, Gale." She whispers. Her hand moves from my elbow to my hand, and she guides my clenched fingers under my chin. Her body is pressed against my back now as she holds my position. Her other hand slides down my left arm as it holds the bow tightly. "Relax!" she says, her voice harsh._

"_I'm trying!" I grunt, setting my anchor point. I'm just about to let my arrow fly when she stops me. _

"_Not yet. You have to pull the string back just a little before you let go, and when you do," she taps my elbow up again, "make sure you let out a deep breath, and all your fingers come off the string at one time." I take a deep breath a tug the string back a little further. _

"_What exactly am I aiming at?" I question. _

_I feel the breath of her laugh through my shirt, and it sends shivers down my spine. "Whatever you want to hit." She says. I pick a random tree, one with a giant knot in the trunk and aim the arrowhead at the center. Another shaky breath enters my lungs. _

_A quick breath escapes my throat as I let the string slip through my fingers. With a loud snap, the arrow flies forward off my hand. The fletchings cut through the side of my hand, the bowstring slaps my forearm and some of my skin rips off of my fingers. "OW!" I scream. The arrow flies through the air with a loud whistle, skims the bark of the tree, and ricochets somewhere down a mid sized hill. _

_Katniss' laugh rings through the woods, I groan and rub my forearm. She takes the bow from me and puts her hand on my shoulder. "I wouldn't say you're a natural." She mutters. "That's alright, I'll teach you. I have your back, if you have mine." She says, walking away. My eyes linger on her when her back is turned to me. A string of her hair is pulled out of her braid and sticking to her neck. The arrows on her shoulder move slightly as she walks silently around the small piles of leaves, there's a slight sway in her hips as she takes steps. _

_Her words hang in my mind. _

_I've got your back. If you got mine. _


End file.
